Tequila
I completely ignored Seamus that night and the next night in Cohasset. I would have been perfectly content to ignore him for the rest of the tour, but let’s be reasonable here; there’s only so long you can ignore someone who sleeps six feet away from you and has a bad habit of walking around the bus in nothing but his underwear.
I mean, who could really blame me for staring?
He had this even more annoying habit of being the first person to wake up in the morning, too, and he lured me out of my bunk with the sweet smell of coffee percolating. Why he felt the need to make coffee in nothing but black silk boxers, I’ll never know. I’ll also never complain. I blame the lack of caffeine in my system for my delayed reaction when he turned and caught me blatantly ogling his ass.
If I were making a list a horrible ways to start the day, getting caught staring at the opening act’s ass would rank very, very high.
That morning was probably the first time since age 13 that I actually turned down coffee. I didn’t even give him the chance to offer, just turned on my heel and walked right back to my bunk and didn’t emerge until Bex started yelling that we were finally at the hotel.
It just seemed safer for everyone involved if I continued to ignore him, and so I did exactly that for the rest of the day, and the better part of the next day. Someone decided to schedule a day off despite the fact that our next show wasn’t even two hours away. Normally, I would have been happy about the chance to explore a little bit of Philly – it wasn’t one of my favorite cities, but it was alright – but that night I felt much more inclined to stay in my hotel room like a hermit.
Naturally, the universe just didn’t see fit to let that happen. And it sent Isaac as its messenger. Typical.
Against my better judgment, I let him talk me into joining him at some bar just down the street from our hotel. He assured me it would just be a low key thing; just me, him, Will, Demetrius and a few beers.
He lied.
Not entirely, of course. It was indeed a low key sort of place and Will and Demetrius were already sitting at the bar when we walked in. Ike’s lie was a lie of omission; specifically, he failed to mention that Seamus would be there as well. I shouldered my way through the crowd and straight to the bar, ordering a double shot of tequila breathlessly, as though my life depended on it.
Ike ordered a Newcastle and a shot of Maker’s Mark – playing it safe, but not too safe. The other three boys already had a few beers in front of them, and they all shot me disbelieving looks as I knocked back those two shots. It looked like I was going to be the only one doing any serious drinking.
That is, until Seamus caught the bartender’s attention and ordered two shots of tequila for himself. He downed them quickly, his eyes flickering to mine as he sets the empty glasses back down on the bar. It almost seemed like a challenge.
Well. This was going to get interesting.
I couldn’t even tell you what the other guys did after that. It became all about me and Seamus, and our quest to drink each other under the table. For every shot or drink I order, he ordered just the same. At some point Ike sidled up from god knows where and told me that he was heading back to get some sleep. A quick look around revealed that Will and Demetrius, too, were long gone.
But I was just getting started.
Without our hands full of the newest round – I couldn’t have even told you what number it was – the two of us made our way to a booth in the back. To my surprise, he slid in right next to me rather than across from me. I wasn’t going to complain, though. When he threw an arm over my shoulder, I thought the smell of his cologne alone, let alone his touch on my skin, might be enough to make me pass out. My vision blurred for a moment, then came back into focus right as he lifted the shot glass to my lips.
It almost seemed like he was trying to get me shitfaced. But why would he do that, when he had complained about how drunk I was the night we met? None of it made any sense, and I wasn’t even sure if that was because it actually didn’t make sense or because I was, in fact, shitfaced.
Once the last few shots were emptied, I leaned heavily against Seamus’ shoulder and sighed. I knew it was probably getting late, and I should have been anywhere else, doing anything else but practically cuddling with this boy in public. Thanks to all that tequila – and rum and probably some vodka, too – I really didn’t care.
“You’re alright, you know,” Seamus said, his eyes glassy but his words surprisingly clear.
I shrugged. I didn’t feel alright. I felt drunk and fucking horny. One of those problems could only be solved with time and coffee, but the other one… well, I thought Seamus was a nice solution for it.
It’s funny how a little – okay, a lot – of liquor had me completely abandoning my plan to ignore him. I couldn’t really even remember why I had wanted to steer clear of the gorgeous man who seemed quite content to sit here with me and do nothing at all. Where was the fun in that, though? We weren’t even drinking anymore.
“Seamus,” I said, giving him the puppy dog eyes I knew no one could refuse. “Care to get the next round? Since you’re blocking my way to the bar.”
“Oh, I’d say we’ve had enough,” he replied, only the faintest twinkle in his eyes.
I pouted and he only chuckled. I didn’t find that very amusing, but I wasn’t really in a position to argue with him. At that point, with that much alcohol in me, I would have clung to the first guy – or girl, on some nights – who showed me any interest. While Seamus wasn’t exactly showing interest, he had just said I was alright, and that was a good enough compliment for me.
He pulled his arm back, causing me to pout even more, and stood up. With his hand out, he said, “Come on. Let’s get back to the hotel.”
Now there was an even better suggestion than more alcohol. I accepted his hand, mostly because I needed the help to lift myself out of the booth and onto my legs, not because I really wanted to walk through some bar holding his hand. As soon as I was positive I wasn’t going to collapse, I let my hand slip from his and settled for just following close behind him as he wound through the crowd.
You ever notice how, when you’re drunk, all those transitional moments – walking back to your hotel and talking the hot Irishman into staying in your room, for example – just race by in a blur that doesn’t stick in your memory? Yeah.
I snapped back to reality, more or less, right before falling into the unmade bed and beckoning Seamus to join me. He kicked his shoes off as he crossed the room, a strange look of amusement on his face. I wiggled out of my shoes and jeans all in one surprisingly smooth move. Seamus left his one clothes on, but joined me on the bed just the same.
“I’m afraid you’re going to be terribly disappointed tonight, Taylor,” he said, pulling the covers over us.
“I highly doubt that.” My eyes traveled up and down his body as I said it. Disappointed? In him? Not likely.
He chuckled. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Taylor. You’re absolutely trashed.”
“I seem to recall you drinking, too.”
“Irish,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s an awful stereotype, but I think it’s safe to say I can hold my liquor better than most. Better than you, at least.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that, especially considering the fact that I could see at least two of Seamus swimming around in front of my eyes. I tried desperately to remember why I thought drinking with him was a good idea, and I drew an absolute blank. Since I had already made one bad decision, and had nothing to say, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to heap another bad decision on top of it. So, I leaned in and kissed him.
“Taylor,” he mumbled against my lips, sending delicious vibrations through my body.
“Yeah?” I replied, barely even pausing to take a breath before kissing him again.
He pulled back and stared in my eyes. “We’re not going to do this.”
“Fine.” I didn’t even care that you could practically hear the pout in my words, and I really didn’t care how childish it was to turn my back on him.
“Taylor,” he sighed. “Why are you so keen on making this happen? You know it won’t work. We don’t want the same things.”
“You don’t know what I want.” Again, I didn’t care how pathetic and childish I was being. It was allowed; I was drunk.
“No, I suppose I don’t. I know that what you don’t want is a relationship, but I don’t know why that is.”
I sighed loudly and shoved my head into the pillow. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with Seamus, drunk or sober. Still, I found myself mumbling, “Relationships don’t work. They just hurt.”
“Well, what do you know? Taylor Hanson actually has emotions.”
“I didn’t say that I did.”
Seamus chuckled. “You didn’t have to. If relationships hurt, as you said, they must hurt something. Your emotions, or just your ego?”
I really didn’t appreciate how clever he seemed to think he was. I crossed my arms over my chest and ignored him, hoping that soon enough he would think I had passed out.
I was not, of course, that lucky. His fingers danced up my arm, tracing invisible patterns. “I would genuinely like to know. I’m curious about you and how you became… well, you. But I suppose you’ve got all tour to tell me.”
“Or I could never tell you. That’s also an option,” I replied, though I could feel my frustration with him fading.
“It is. But I hope it’s not the one you choose.”
And the frustration was back. “Why do you care?”
“I suppose you intrigue me,” he said, as though he hadn’t given much thought to his reasoning until questioned about it. “Do I need a reason? It just seems to me that you’re suffering, and I have a heart. Simple as that.”
“Right,” I replied, wishing I had passed out by now. “Well, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fine. Whenever you do, if you ever do, I’ll be here. Well, at least for the duration of the tour.”
I sighed into the pillow again and began to seriously consider counting sheep. Not that that had ever put me to sleep before, but I supposed it was worth a try. Anything was better than staying awake, listening to Seamus being sappy and weird. I had just begun to feel myself drifting off when he ran a hand through my hair.
“Since you probably won’t remember anything tomorrow, this would be a good time to tell you some bad news.”
I didn’t really want to answer him, but I was nearly awake again, so what the hell? “What is it?”
“I think I kind of like you.”