Normal?
I drove Taylor home that night, but I didn’t stay with him. I think it was some sort of guilt over letting Carrick see what had happened that kept me from getting out of my truck and walking into Taylor’s house. If Carrick asked later, even though I knew he wouldn’t, I wanted to be able to tell him that I hadn’t had sex with Taylor after the party. So I went home to my big empty house and Taylor went home to his, and after a few days pass, everything seems to be back to normal.
Whatever normal is for us anymore.
There’s no official schedule for us right now, since we’re taking the recording process for our next album pretty slowly. Carrick and Austin are even more relaxed, so on any given day, it’s really anyone’s guess who will actually be in our office working, aside from the few employees who take care of the boring day to day stuff. Somehow, though, I’ve persuaded Taylor to come in today. I couldn’t guarantee that it would just be the two of us there, so I’ve just got my fingers crossed as I drive across town – hoping both that Taylor will actually show and that, if he does, we’ll be alone.
Of course we can’t be so lucky.
He gets here just a few minutes after me, armed with his usual energy drinks and lattes. A couple various employees are here, but at least I can get Taylor away from them and into the studio, I tell myself. At least, I could, if Carrick and Austin weren’t currently using it. So much for getting Taylor alone.
It’s not that I need to have him alone. I feel sleazy every time I think of it that way, when I’m, surprisingly, not thinking about him sexually for once. I just think it will be easier to ease Taylor back into the world if he doesn’t have to deal with anyone else but me for a while. That seems to be the way he prefers it, too. He did okay at Johnny and Angie’s party, but it’s not like those are ever especially rowdy. Not that our office is rowdy, either, but you never know what could happen. It still just seems safer to keep him to myself, no matter how selfish that seems.
Taylor steers clear of the studio and barricades himself in at his desk. I have no idea what he plans on working on all day – probably just a game of solitaire. Whatever. I’ll leave him to it and pretend to work on something at my own desk. At some point, I do want to go talk to Carrick, but I have no idea how to accomplish that while Taylor is still around. I don’t even know what to say to Carrick, anyway. I just know that I need to talk to him. This is all just so awkward.
Is this a love triangle? I’ve never been in one of those before. Although I suppose technically, as Carrick reminded me the other night, there’s another side. A love square? Doesn’t have the same ring to it.
We didn’t come into the office particularly early, so it’s not all that long before someone comes in to ask if we want lunch. And of course, that someone just has to be Carrick. What the hell is with my luck today? I know nothing horrible has happened, so I’m really being overdramatic, but it just seems like every tiny little thing that could ruin my plan for the day is happening. I hate to think of Carrick that way, though, when I know he doesn’t mean me any harm.
He doesn’t look as much like he owns the place as he usually does. In fact, he’s kind of sheepish, his hands in his pockets and his eyes careful to only barely meet mine and ignore Taylor completely when he asks if we’d like anything from Mexicali.
I glance at Taylor and he shakes his head, so I rattle off my usual order, plus some extra tacos just in case Taylor does decide to eat. He probably won’t, but that’s okay. I’m a human garbage disposal, as Kate likes to remind me; the tacos will probably find their way home with me if I haven’t eaten them before we call it a day.
Carrick’s been gone for a few minutes before Taylor says anything. I only anticipate his words because they’re proceeded by a loud slurp on the dredges of his latte, the only sound in the room at all. The sudden and kind of disgusting reminder that he’s still here makes me jump a little in my chair.
“So,” he says. “You and Carrick?”
“Yeah,” I reply, because what else can I say to something that isn’t really much of a question in the first place? I’m not really sure what he’s getting at, asking something like that, but I guess I’ll find out eventually. Like anything with Taylor, I just have to hang on for the ride.
“Hmm,” Taylor says, pausing to slurp at his drink again, even though it’s clearly empty. “Good for you. I thought it was just me.”
“Thought what was just you?” I ask. Even though I’m not sure what he’s implying, the casualness with which he’s talking about all of this, like he should just expect me to be fucking my best friend, angers me.
“I didn’t know you felt that way about any other guys. Thought it was just me.”
“Sorry to make you feel less special,” I reply, and suddenly I’m aware of that cynicism Carrick kept talking about. Maybe he was right about it.
“I didn’t say that,” Taylor replies, rolling his desk chair closer to mine. I don’t have to glance his way to know that’s what he’s doing. I can hear the scraping of the wheels against the floor and feel his body heat near me. “Just… a little surprised, that’s all. So, just me and him, then? Or have there been others?”
His curiosity really does not amuse me. I’m sure he thinks he’s hilarious, though. Still, I have to answer him. Taylor becomes really insufferable if people ignore him.
I really hate that this is the closest we’ve come to discussing what’s going on between us. It’s not like we’re even talking about it now. It almost seems like, to Taylor, it’s just a punchline to some joke. He seems so amused by my sexuality. I don’t find it all that funny. But I know, again, that if I don’t answer him, he won’t stop asking. So I have to at least answer his questions.
“Just the two of you.”
“Hmm. Interesting,” he replies, his chair banging into mine as he attempts to get even closer to me. I’d love to know what he’s thinking right now. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t.
“Is it?” I ask, leaning away from him, even though at any other time, I’d find myself powerless to do anything but lean toward him. Something about his attitude today is just the exact opposite of a turn on. I didn’t know it was possible for Taylor to do anything to turn me off, but apparently, he can.
Taylor shrugs, a tiny little smirk crossing his face. “A little bit. I mean, I get it. He’s a good looking guy, I guess.”
“You guess?” I ask, my brow furrowing. I feel this strange, intense desire to defend Carrick – not just his looks, but his entire character, even though that wasn’t what Taylor was talking about at all.
He shrugs again. “Not really my type. But he’s alright. Good for you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I’m not sure I really want to know the answer to that question. It doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s only just left my mouth when the office door slams shut and Austin calls out that lunch is here. Taylor pushes off the floor and scoots himself quickly back to his own desk, leaving me alone and confused in front of mine. I’m really not sure what just happened here. Now that Carrick and Austin are back, I know I’m not even going to get any more half answers out of Taylor.
Austin is the first one through our door, even though Carrick is the one carrying the food. He casts a quick glance at Taylor before setting the styrofoam boxes on my desk. I’m sure there are a dozen things, if not more, that he wants to say to Taylor, and probably even more than he wants to say to me, but none of them are really appropriate at the moment – if ever.
As I glance back and forth between the two of them – my lover and my brother who also happens to be my lover – I can’t help wondering when the hell my life got this fucking weird.
“So, hey,” Austin says, cutting through the tension in the room that he seems oblivious to anyway. “We were thinking about having another party this weekend, just for the hell of it. Weren’t we, Carrick?”
“Well, you were,” Carrick says to Austin, then offers me a little sympathetic – or possibly apologetic – shrug. “But, sure. Why not. Let’s have a party.”
“Sounds like fun,” Taylor says.
There’s a sincerity in his voice that takes everyone in the room – aside from oblivious Austin – by surprise. I stare at him, waiting for the smile on his face to crack or slip away from his eyes, but it doesn’t. He really means it. He wants to go out and party, to be around friends… for a certain definition of friend, I suppose.
Isn’t this what I wanted? For Taylor to be happy again? For him to be carefree? For him to just be Taylor again?
Yet, somehow, something about it feels very, very wrong.