Caffeine and Bacon
We drove right on to Massachusetts that night, and I continued my cowardly routine of hiding from Seamus at all costs. I used the excuse of extreme tiredness to go back to the bus as soon as possible, and spent the night hiding in my bunk. Even over the din of Zac’s video game, I could hear Seamus telling some story – god only knows what – and making everyone laugh, but I absolutely would not leave my bunk under any circumstances.
My plan of hiding quickly unraveled, though. Somewhere past Albany, we stopped to fuel up and eat a greasy truck stop breakfast. I didn’t want to leave my bunk even then, despite the need for caffeine gnawing at my brain. By the time Isaac came and flung back the curtain on my bunk, the caffeine addiction had won out.
I mumbled something to Ike that seemed to convince him I was on my way, then stumbled out of the bunk. I had taken a shower before we left the venue, but I had fallen into the bunk still wearing my jeans. I didn’t really care, though, that my clothes were wrinkled and my hair was probably sticking up in a million directions.
Seamus, of course, looked fantastic. Who does that at 7am? Seamus Lane, that’s who.
Once again, he caught me staring. It’s not like the bus was that big; as soon as he turned around, there I was, shamelessly checking him out. But he smiled, and this time, it didn’t seem like he was mocking me. Maybe it was too early for him to turn on the snark. Whatever the reason for it, I was glad. I even managed to return his smile with one that I hoped seemed genuine as well.
That was enough Seamus for my morning, though. I mumbled something about caffeine, dug my wallet out of the bag I’d carelessly thrown onto the couch the night before, and hurried off the bus before he found his snark.
When you’ve spent as much time as I have on the road, you really start to appreciate a good truck stop. Sketchy ones, with sticky bathrooms and truckers leering at you – yes, even at me – are a dime a dozen. The good ones are rare. This? This was a good one. It had a big coffee bar and a McDonald’s attached, so I could satisfy my need for both caffeine and bacon. Once I had paid for what looked to be a very strong cup of joe (and an energy shot, just in case), I made for the McDonald’s and was soon holed up in a corner booth with the least healthy bagel known to man.
I was in heaven. At least, I would have been in heaven if Seamus hadn’t sudden materialized in front of my booth and slid into the seat across from me.
“You left before I could say good morning.”
“Sorry,” I replied as genuinely as I could manage. With a little caffeine in my system, it was surprisingly easy to fake it. “In a hurry to get my breakfast.”
“Seems your drinking habit is always coming between us,” Seamus said, his lips turning up in a grin. So the snark wasn’t gone after all. Fantastic.
I could have responded in kind. I could have been flirty. I could have done anything, really, but what did I do? Stuffed half my bagel in my mouth and pretended Seamus wasn’t sitting right across from me.
“Impressive,” he said.
I coughed and sputtered, but some managed to swallow down the last bit of bagel and washed it down with a slug of coffee. Out of options, aside from getting up and running, I stared Seamus down and said, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
He grinned. “That’s what I was counting on.”
Seamus was flirting with me. He was fucking flirting with me. What was his deal anyway? Months after turning me down, here he was flirting with me like it was nothing at all. It made no sense to me. Okay, maybe I was flirting back. But he started it.
“Everything alright in there, Taylor?”
He really needed to stop saying my name like that. If he said it again, I wouldn’t be able to control my actions. I’d probably drop down under that booth and go down on him right then and there. That may say more about how pathetic and shameless I am than about how fucking beautiful he sounds when he says my name, though.
“Taylor?”
Damn it all to hell.
Mustering up every bit of self control I had, I snapped myself out of that daze and stared back at him. “Yes? I’m here.”
“Just checking,” he replied. “You know, I feel like things still aren’t all that comfortable between us.”
Oh, so it isn’t just me? “Really?”
He nodded. “Really. Maybe I didn’t explain myself well enough yesterday.”
I sipped my coffee and eyed him, waiting for him to finally do so. Despite any attempts to act nonchalant, I was on pins and needles waiting for his explanation.
“It isn’t that I wasn’t interested in you, Taylor,” he replied.
“It isn’t?”
He shook his head, seemingly amused that I hadn’t realized that on my own. “No. You were drunk. I was drunk. And I don’t do one night stands – drunk or sober. It’s just not me.”
“That’s understandable,” I replied. And it was, even if it was the exact opposite of my own policy. I thrived on one night stands – they were practically as essential to my life as caffeine and bacon.
“Good,” he said. “I’m not naïve, you know. I knew what you were after. Shame it isn’t the same thing I’m after.”
“Well.” So he had seen me for what I really was. Was I that obvious or did my reputation just precede me? “Like I said yesterday, no hard feelings?”
“Of course not. We’re just different creatures, that’s all. I’m sure someday I’ll find someone who can handle settling down with a musician. And someday, perhaps, you’ll find that you do want to settle down after all. Stranger things have happened, right?”
I couldn’t think of any.
“I would honestly like to be your friend, Taylor. You can do friendship, right?”
His tone seemed mocking, still, but his face showed that it was a sincere question. I decided it deserved a sincere answer. “Of course. I can do friendship.”
And I could. Probably.
With our caffeine addictions sated and the bus fueled up, we hit the road again, heading on to Hyannis for our first hotel stop of the tour. For the first few hours, I even made good on my promise to be friends with Seamus. I sat in the front of the bus with him and Isaac, discussing music and touring as casually and friendly as I possibly could.
I barely even flirted. For me, that really should be considered an accomplishment.
Days off, on tour, are rarely ever truly days off. Usually, they’re scheduled on purpose for the times when we have extra long drives to make. Once the driving is done, there’s usually some sort of work to be done or we’re too exhausted to even enjoy the fact that there isn’t any work to do. This day was mostly the latter.
Somehow, I got volunteered to do a phone interview that afternoon, so while everyone else headed out to explore the city, I was holed up in my hotel room with my cell phone glued to my ear. I didn’t really mind. After spending the entire morning socializing, a little “me time,” even if it did involve yet another interview, sounded just perfect.
It sounded so perfect, in fact, that I didn’t even leave my hotel room for the rest of the day, except for quick trip across the street for coffee and a sandwich. The rest of the afternoon and evening I spent watching mindless television, surfing the internet and generally being lazy. I didn’t often get to indulge myself like that, and I certainly didn’t take it for granted.
Unfortunately, it seemed that all I could think about all day was Seamus.
I just didn’t understand him at all. His words made sense, but they didn’t say the same thing as his actions. More than that, I couldn’t understand the effect it was all having on me – the effect he was having on me. I wanted to believe that it was just because I wasn’t used to being turned down, but it was becoming more and more difficult to convince myself.
He was beautiful, talented and a giant flirt – but so what? I had met plenty of guys who fit that bill and very rarely did the butterflies they gave me last longer than the night. I’d had no reason to think that Seamus would be any different, until I saw him again. As much as I wanted to fight it, I knew what that meant. And I didn’t like it one bit.
I, Jordan Taylor Hanson, had a crush. A fucking crush.
I didn’t do crushes. At least, I didn’t think I did. My last crush had ended with me, well, crushed. So I learned not to give into those stupid butterflies and not to believe that things could actually work out. Being in love didn’t make the world conform to your wishes. It just didn’t. And if it couldn’t do that, if it couldn’t actually improve your life in any way, then what was the point?
I had long ago stopped seeing the point in even thinking about falling in love.
Seamus didn’t seem so jaded, though. In a way, I envied him. It must have been nice to think that love would someday happen and that when it did, it would be a good thing. I wasn’t oblivious to the implication that he hoped I would someday believe the same thing. But he was only setting himself up for heartbreak if he thought he could win me over.
By that evening, I was starting to feel pretty pathetic for making like a hermit in my room all day. I was feeling too lazy to even leave to get dinner. There was an easy solution to that, though. Even the dinkiest hotels in the world – and we had certainly stayed at a few of those – always put a flyer or two for pizza delivery in the room. A quick glance around yielded results; I didn’t even care that Little Caesar’s was far from gourmet if they would deliver right to the hotel lobby.
A few minutes later, with my meat lovers pizza ordered, I forced myself to put on shoes and head toward the lobby. I pulled my hat down low on my head as I waited for the elevator; I knew it was a little silly – surely there wouldn’t be any fans lurking around this late – but it was a reflex born out of years and years of screaming girls following my every move.
There were no screaming girls in this hotel, though. Just one gorgeous man lounging in a chair in the lobby. If he hadn’t been there first, I would have accused him of stalking me.
“Going out?”
I shook my head, sitting down in the chair opposite his. “Waiting for a pizza delivery.”
“Ah, we had the same idea, then,” he replied with a wide grin.
I didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, because as soon as he said it, I saw a delivery guy approaching with what looked suspiciously like two pizza boxes. Seamus followed my gaze and jumped up to cut the guy off before I could react. I couldn’t hear their exchange, but I didn’t need to; seconds later, he was walking back toward me with both boxes and the delivery guy was walking out the door.
Seamus grinned at me, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Well? Shall we, then?”
“We?” I asked, staring up at him.
“Well, here’s the deal,” he said. “If you’d like to have your pizza, and I assume you do, you’ll just have to come to my room. Call it a trade – pizza for friendly company. Come on, I’m all alone up there.”
I didn’t buy his pathetic pout for one second. It was cute, though. And I couldn’t very well argue with the guy holding my pizza hostage. Seeing no real way out, unless I sacrificed my dinner, I stood up and gave Seamus a smile. “Alright, then. Your room.”