I smiled as I watched Zac blow out the flames on his blackened marshmallow, Taylor and Austin laughing at his pout. Ike was the first to go to bed; I guess they don’t call him old man Hanson for nothing. Austin stood slowly, swaying on his feet a bit and mumbling a goodnight, retiring to his tent. Zac caught my eyes, mimicking my smirk as Taylor took another long sip from the bottle of vodka clutched tightly in his fist.
I strummed my guitar quietly, playing along with the crackling and popping of the bonfire. Not too long after, Tay finally gave up, all but crawling into his tent, a string of curses and rustling fabric making Zac and me giggle. After a few more minutes, silence took over again; I sighed happily, setting my guitar down. I leaned towards Zac, grinning.
“Okay, I know you’ve got a jay rolled.”
“Now why would you think that?” He smiled innocently, looking almost surprised. I just laughed, snatching a marshmallow off his stick. He pouted for a second, but it quickly shifted to a smirk as he pulled a joint from his pocket.
“Holding out on me, huh?” I nodded, knowingly, licking the gooey white substance from my fingers. My eyes lingered on Zac’s as he followed the movement, but he laughed and looked down, handing me the joint.
“Nah, I was gonna share.”
“You better,” I muttered as I lit up, filling my lungs with the thick smoke. I passed it to Zac, my eyes on his again as I exhaled slowly. There’d always been an unspoken tension between us, ever since we’d met. But it wasn’t an uneasy one; ever-present, but not awkward. Zac sat back as he took his hit, staring into space. I took advantage of his distraction to steal another marshmallow, giggling at his delayed response.
“Hey man, get your own!” he whined, but I just laughed, sticking my tongue out. I didn’t even really want the snacks, but the fun of swiping them from him was too tempting to resist. The joint was passed again, and I let my eyes close for a minute, my head already feeling lighter.
“I tell ya man, this is perfect.” I stared into the fire, feeling the warmth on my face and arms and bare feet.
“Yeah. Pretty good night.” Zac’s voice was soft, his smile warm, as he took the joint back. I picked up my guitar, humming along. I caught him in my peripheral, trying to subtly glance at me and failing. I smirked, and he quickly glanced away, exhaling and passing the joint back without meeting my eyes. I lived for moments like that, where I caught him off guard, glimpsing the shyness he tried to hard to hide.
“Good weed, good company,” I mused as I took the joint from him, purposefully letting our fingers brush. My eyes were trained on his as I wrapped my lips around it, one eyebrow twitching slightly. “Perfect.” I exhaled through my nose, licking my lips slowly and deliberately. I loved teasing Zac just a little; nothing had ever come of it before, but hey, a guy could dream.
“Toast me one?” I asked, nodding my head to the bag of marshmallows. Zac speared a couple, dangling them over the glowing embers at the edge of the fire.
“You like ’em slightly warm like I do, or still flaming like Tay?” Zac asked innocently, but I couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up. Flaming was a pretty damn perfect way of describing the middle Hanson; Zac looked at me questioningly, his eyes widening when he realized what he’d said. He laughed, shaking his head and taking a hit.
“Nah, I like em like me. Perfectly toasted.” I winked at Zac playfully as he passed both the joint and the golden brown marshmallow to me. I looked at the two of them curiously. “Hmm, decisions, decisions…” I smirked at Zac again, taking a hit and holding it, stuffing the hot ball of goo in my mouth, chewing and swallowing, and finally exhaling.
“Damn. Impressive.” Zac’s eyes were wide as he grinned at me; I just smiled proudly, shrugging my shoulders.
“Pure skill,” I sighed, wiggling my eyebrows. Zac just chuckled, watching as I picked up my guitar. “Cuz marshmallows are my favorite kind of food,” I sang, making him giggle again.
“How fucking stoned was I when I wrote that, seriously,” Zac laughed. I hadn’t been with him at the time, but I had a feeling my stash had taken my place.
“I don’t know man, but I wish I could’ve been there.” I laughed, eyeing zac, and stealing his last marshmallow. His smile fell, his lips curling into a sincere pout, his wide eyes on me, and I felt a tug in my chest. I never could resist that damn look. I threw him a sheepish grin, holding the marshmallow to his lips. Sure it was a little cheesy, but it made him smile. He bit half of it off, smiling sweetly as he chewed.
“Didn’t want the whole thing?” I asked, one eyebrow raised. I wasn’t sure if he honestly hadn’t gotten what I was going for, or was just pretending not to, but he just shrugged.
“Thought I’d share.” He grinned at me, and I shrugged back, popping the half-eaten snack in my mouth.
“How thoughtful.” I strummed my guitar slowly, staring into the fire again. I glanced over to the tents, shaking my head. “I still can’t believe they wussed out so early.”
“Well Taylor gave it his best, but the half a fucking gallon of vodka won in the end, I think,” Zac said, chuckling. I laughed with him, playing a few familiar chords.
“He’s going to seriously regret that tomorrow.”
“He’s done a lot worse,” Zac replied, laughing. Memories of stories I’d heard flickered through my mind, and my lips curled into a knowing smirk.
“So I’ve heard.”
“But I swear, he remembers it all. Never fucking blacks out.” I thought I caught a hint of jealousy in Zac’s tone, but I shrugged it off.
“It’s a rare gift,” I sighed, grinning proudly. I’d never once blacked out, and I’d gotten ridiculously shitfaced more times than I could count. “Speaking of, toss me a beer?”
“Sure.” Zac leaned over, grabbing two cans from the cooler beside him and handing me one. Our fingers brushed this time, but through no fault of mine.
“Thanks,” I said after a second, my eyes on Zac as I sipped my drink. It was cold against my throat, burning from the smoke I’d inhaled, and the nearby fire.
“What about you?” I asked finally. “You remember anything?”
“What, when I get shitfaced?”
“Like that party in LA? The one right after… Well, you know the one.” I looked over at Zac, his smile falling.
“Yeah, I know the one,” he said quietly. That party had taken place a few days after his divorce was finalized; we’d been celebrating his freedom, so to speak. His marriage had never been a happy one, and one day, they’d decided it was time to move on.
“Don’t remember a damn thing, actually.” He avoided my gaze, sipping his beer; I could practically see the defensive walls.
“Not much to remember, really.” I tried to sound casual; I’d known him long enough to know how to maneuver this territory, how to get him to talk when he was reluctant.
“I do recall some really horrible dancing,” he said after a minute, a smile tugging at his lips. “And the worst fucking jello shots ever. Seriously, don’t let Austin do that. Ever. Again.” He looked at me, and we both cracked up at the memory.
“Yeah, he knows how to mix, but apparently jello shots are beyond his skill level.”
“Seriously, understatement of the year,” Zac chuckled. His eyes lost focus for a minute as he sipped his drink; I watched him, taking in the way the flickering light made his hair glow.
“But that’s pretty much all I remember,” he said finally. “Hope I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself, but it tends to happen when I drink.” I smirked at Zac, wondering if he really didn’t remember.
“Yeah, well don’t worry, I’ve got your back. Won’t let you embarrass yourself… much.”
“Right,” Zac said slowly, one eyebrow raised. “Just enough so you can laugh about it later, right?”
“What are friends for?” I shot back, grinning smugly. Zac chuckled softly, but his smile fell, his brow furrowing.
“There is one thing, though… But I don’t think it actually happened.” Zac bit his lip, thinking; I tilted my head, wondering if he would voice it.
“I’m sure it wasn’t real,” he said, shaking his head. I leaned forward, watching him closely.
“Sure what wasn’t real?” I tried to hide the excitement in my voice, my lips twitching into an almost-smirk. So he did remember. He laughed nervously, finally meeting my eyes.
“Well… the thing is, it seems like I tried to shove my tongue down your throat.” His voice shook almost imperceptibly. I just stared at him, sipping my beer; I could see the wheels turning, and had to force myself not to laugh when he cringed.
“I… did, didn’t I?” he said in a defeated tone. The smirk I’d been fighting finally burst free, but faltered as his shoulders slumped. “So much for not making an ass of myself.”
From the way Carrick smirked at me, I knew the answer. I couldn’t even believe I had let myself do that. Out of all the guys at that party, I could have done worse, though. At least I had shoved my tongue down my best friend’s throat, and not some totally random guy’s. That almost made me feel better, until I realized that Carrick would never let me live this down.
“So much for not making an ass of myself.”
“Don’t worry about it. I stopped you before you started humping my leg,” he replied, winking.
I laughed, but that really hadn’t eased my worries at all. “It could have happened; that’s the sad part.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said, laughing as well. He chugged the rest of his beer, tossing the bottle aside casually before glancing back up at me. A grin spread across his face and I could tell he was plotting something. “Hey, I’ll be right back.”
“Alright,” I replied, sipping my beer more slowly than he had. I was a little scared to see what he might be planning, especially after that line of conversation.
I watched him walk into our tent. A few seconds later, he returned with both of our pillows tucked under his arm and his sleeping bag dragging the ground behind him. He dumped them all by the fire and looked at me. “What do ya say?”
“Just one sleeping bag, huh? Are we gonna cuddle?” I asked with a smirk.
He snorted and shook his head as he spread the sleeping bag out on the ground like a blanket. “Only if ya get scared.”
I downed the rest of my beer and tossed the bottle in the same general direction as Carrick’s. “Me, scared? Never.”
Carrick snorted again, but offered no other reply. He picked up his guitar and began playing, and I couldn’t resist the urge to scoot onto the sleeping bag next to him. His voice soft and sweet, he began to sing along. “I’m taking a chance, ’cause that’s all I got…”
I could feel the grin spreading across my face as I watched and listened. “You know I love that song.”
He returned my grin and continued singing softly. I couldn’t help staring at him. I had to do something to distract myself from his face, even if it meant interrupting the song. I stared down at his fingers as they moved across the strings. “But seriously, dude. Sorry. That uh… tends to happen when I drink. It’s why I quit when me and Kate were still married.”
Carrick’s smile fell a little bit and he nodded. “How ya doing? Really.”
“I’m alright. Saw it coming for a while, you know?” I replied, shrugging.
It was the truth. Kate and I hadn’t made a good couple since we were teenagers, but we were both too stubborn to give up on it. We didn’t fight or anything, we just… fell apart. It took us years to realize what had happened, but once we did, we both knew divorce was the next logical step. It could have been a lot messier, all things – including my drunken tendency to kiss anything that moved – considered.
Carrick nodded again. I didn’t like it when he was so serious. Sometimes I thought he took the divorce more seriously than I did. I struggled to think of something else to say to bring the mood back up, but he solved that problem for me when he began to sing again.
“I can’t get enough, you really are a torturer, my boy…”
He winked as he finished the lyric and I realized exactly what he had said. I could feel my body temperature increasing, but I tried to blame that on the fire and the alcohol. I chuckled softly and mumbled, “Yeah, yeah. I’m just glad to know my drunk kissing thing didn’t like, freak you out or anything.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” he replied, shaking his head. “You were drunk. It happens.”
I chuckled again, nodding. “Yeah… pretty often when it’s me, too. Tried to kiss our guitar tech once. That didn’t end well.”
When I saw the way Carrick’s face scrunched up, I regretted admitting that one. He laughed loudly and asked, “Muff? Seriously, dude?”
“I was totally plastered! I don’t even remember,” I replied, my embarassment fading away as I recalled how angry Muff had been. It was actually pretty funny. “But apparently he’ll never forget.”
“Oh man…” Carrick said, laughing. He sat his guitar aside and laid back. I laid down next to him, but not close enough to make it weird. We were sharing a tent anyway, but something about laying together like this seemed different. I thought a little distance was appropriate.
“I mean, it’s not like I try to make out with everyone when I’m drunk,” I said, glancing at the side of Carrick’s face. “Okay, maybe almost everyone. I’m not that bad… not really.”
Carrick chuckled, then looked over at me, one eyebrow up. “Right.”
“What? Are you calling me a whore?” I asked, trying to look as innocent as I possibly could. I didn’t have to try that hard; I really wasn’t a whore at all. My tongue had a mind of its own, but I hadn’t been with anyone other than Kate since I was a teenager – not even since the divorce.
My innocent face earned me yet another of Carrick’s patended smirks. After a moment had passed, he asked, “Hey, Zac?”
“Yeah?”
“How many chicks have you tried to make out with when you were drunk?”
Of all the questions he could have asked, that was probably the worst one. As I thought about it, I realized that the list was pretty short. I blushed and tried to lie anyway. “Plenty…”
“Uh huh… like who?”
“Umm… well, there was Meiko. But apparently she’s into Taylor,” I said, laughing nervously. I couldn’t think of a single other girl in the last decade, although I was sure there must have been some; I had no doubt been too drunk to remember them. “And you wouldn’t know the other ones.”
Carrick snorted. “Who isn’t into Taylor?”
“Umm, me?”
“I sure as fuck hope you,” he replied, wrinking his nose.
I laughed. “Trust me. I have not tried to kiss Taylor while I was drunk.”
“Okay, okay,” he replied, laughing. “And I totally believe you that Muff and me were just a fluke.”
“Muff was definitely a fluke,” I replied. As soon as I saw his eyebrows go up, I realized I had said the wrong thing. I really wasn’t trying to imply that I wanted him, but it had definitely sounded that way. I tried to think of some way, any way, to backpedal. “I’m just saying, if I were into dudes, he would so not be my type.”
Carrick eyed me again. “Uh huh… so you have a type?”
Damn it. I had still managed to say the wrong thing. “Well, if I did, it wouldn’t be short, ginger bastards.”
“So what would it be?” He asked, smirking. “Ya know, if you were into dudes.”
“Jesus, Carrick. I haven’t put that much thought into it.”
He laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, man. No doubts about your sexuality here.”
“Good to know,” I replied with a laugh.
He glanced over at the fire, poking it gently with a stick. I couldn’t help staring at him; I seemed to have a real problem with that. It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed he was attractive. If I ever did go for a guy, I could see it being someone like him. I cleared my throat. “If I was into dudes, though… I’d probably have about the same type. You know, dark hair, thin…”
Carrick looked at me from the corner of his eye and I could tell in an instant that I’d said too much.
“I mean, I’m just guessing,” I added, trying to play it off.
“Sure,” he replied with a nod and a smirk.
“Sounded like Taylor was your type,” I remarked, giggling. Even though we didn’t talk about it that much, I had known for a while that Carrick was bisexual. And Taylor was… well, whatever he was.
He looked over at me and smirked. “Nah… I like ’em with a little more meat.”
It occured to me that I had never actually seen Carrick with a guy. I knew he liked them, but I had no clue how he liked them. Suddenly, I found myself curious. “Oh yeah?”
His eyes flashed over me briefly, almost briefly enough to miss. But I had a feeling I knew what it meant. I looked away, but I could still feel his eyes on me. “Kinda got a thing for longer hair, too.”
“Is that right?” I asked, barely glancing back at him.
He nodded and licked his lips. “Gotta have something to grab.”
I tried to ignore the way that made me shiver, instead forcing myself to smirk and look at him head on again. “So, what you’re saying is…Taylor just needs to bulk up and grow his hair out, then you’d be all over him? I’ll let him know.”
Carrick shook his head. “Nah… he’s nice to look at, sure. More to it than looks, though.”
“Well, he’s all looks and no substance,” I replied, chuckling. That wasn’t entirely true, but I had a tendency to jokingly put Taylor down even when he wasn’t around. It was the thought that counted, even if he didn’t hear it.
Carrick snorted in reply. As much as I wanted to keep joking around with him, I couldn’t stop my curiosity. I needed to know just exactly how much of an ass I’d made of myself at that party. “So… refresh my memory here. I’m just not sure. Did you let me kiss you?”
“It may have taken a few seconds for me to stop you…” he replied, smirking.
“Well, that’s understandable,” I said with a smirk. “I am a fantastic kisser.”
He kicked me in a little bit, but his smirk didn’t falter.
“I mean, I’m sure you’re not bad, either,” I added. “Just couldn’t say from memory.”
Carrick turned to look at me then, looking me up and down. I felt my body temperature rising again, and I really couldn’t deny that it was the way he looked at me that was doing it. I tried to hide my nervousness as I asked, “See something ya like?”
I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but his smirk got even bigger. “Maybe…”
I knew there would be no going back from the next question I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know. The way Carrick looked at me said one thing – one thing I was still afraid to ask – but his apparent actions at that party said another. So I had to ask.
“So… why’d you stop me?”