And with each mile
Dec. 4th, 2012 02:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teamzaylorCHAPTER 26: SEXUAL INNUENDO
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Zaylor / Hancest
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks to: Honor @beyondthethorns
About the story: Zac & Taylor's relationship broke up when they got caught kissing by the press and their career were over in a split of a second. To continue a normal life and to take a break from his brother, Taylor starts to study at a College in London but the long distance between them can't stop their feelings for each other.
I apologize. No Zaylor sex scenes in this chapter, but you are close :)
As you might have been able to guess, since Zachary humored me with the museum adventure in the morning, he dragged us to yet another club that night. Usually I cared, but not that night. He’d been such a good sport earlier first of all. Secondly, I was learning that just loosening up, having a few drinks, and refusing to let myself get mad at him was a lot more enjoyable then being resentful the entire night.
I honestly cannot tell you the name of the beach club he chose because I was tipsy and upset when we finally got there. Zac bought a bottle of liquor at a store next to our hotel before we left and insisted that I take a few shots before I got to the club.
“You could use some pre-gaming,” he said in a business-like tone as he poured some of the brown alcohol into a plastic cup from the bathroom. “I think that if you have a few shots here, you’ll be glad you did when we get to the club.”
I tossed the alcohol down my throat and then proceeded to lean over the bathroom sink making theatrical gagging sounds. God, it was hell in a bottle, I swear. Revolting.
Zachary rolled his eyes from the doorway and held the bottle to his lips, taking a sip and shrugging. I couldn’t help but notice him slightly cringe but he just gave me an easy smile to maintain his dignity and said, “It’s not that bad. Don’t be dramatic.”
That was the point when he poured more of it into the plastic cup I was still clenching.
“That is way more than a shot,” I eyed the drink.
“No it’s not. It’s a shot. Trust me. Just drink it.”
I gave him a suspicious look. Trust him? Hah. Right. When it comes to Zachary Hanson and his alcohol, to be trusting is to be naive. “That’s like twice as much as the first amount you gave me. I don’t believe you.”
He sighed. “The first drink you took wasn’t even a full shot. Will you stop analyzing and just drink? Geez, you kill all the fun in drinking.”
Which is why I never drank. Although I had a lot of friends during my teenage years who constantly invited me to parties where the main activity was alcohol consumption, I almost always politely declined their invitations. Alcohol made me nervous. Maybe because I knew Zachary was off in LA running down Sunset Blvd half-naked, drunk off his ass. Maybe because I was scared of what I might do if I drank. Maybe I was afraid that because I could no longer be justifiably addicted to Zac, I’d find a new addiction and end up at AA meetings before the age of twenty.
When I did go to drinking parties, I always awkwardly held a beer in my hand all night- doing nothing more than examine the liquid’s transformation from icy cold and bubbly to lukewarm and flat.
My buddies could come by with strange concoctions and hold them to my lips saying, “Alright, Tay, just sip this.”
“What’s in it?” I’d pull my head away from the alcoholic stench and examine the muddy liquid.
“Just some tequila,” they’d respond.
“What kind of tequila…?”
Stalling.
“Jose Cuervo. Just shut up and drink it.”
“Jose Cuervo? I’m more of a cabo kind of person….” I only knew what Cabo was because Zac used to talk about it a lot.
“This is all we have, Tay. Are you going to drink it?”
“How many shots are in it?”
At this point they would give up on me, give me a hearty but frustrated slap on the shoulder blade, and then wander off to pass the drink off to someone less tense.
As I stood there reminiscing about those high school parties, I completely forgot for a moment that Zachary was standing there waiting for me to take the shot… or shot and a half, as I believed it to be.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Zac said, smirking and glancing at his watch. “Take your time, buddy.”
"If I don't drink fast enough for you, then maybe I should just stay back at the hotel while you go to the club alone…” I threatened, not appreciating him rushing me. I was still recovering from the first shot.
He got the picture and sat down on the toilet seat. Zac sighed and took another lazy sip from the bottle. He rested the bottle on his thigh and gazed off at the wall for a moment. He was doing that staring thing, where he’s staring but you know he has no idea what he’s staring at. His eyes are just locked in thought.
After a moment I threw the shot back and tossed the cup into the sink, stumbling a bit because the taste was so bad. Zachary finally looked back at me and chuckled at my lurching.
“You’re too much…” he chuckled and then screwed the cap on the bottle and set it on the side of the sink. “But you’re a light weight, that should be enough for now. What are you planning on wearing?”
I glanced down at my jeans and polo shit. “This?”
He paused for a second before saying, “Alright.”
“Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
Zachary shrugged. “It’s fine.”
He was beginning to get on my nerves. Every second there was something wrong with me. I didn’t drink well enough, my outfit was ugly… what was next? My teeth weren’t straight enough or my haircut was distasteful?
“I, however,” he began, moseying into the bedroom and going over to my suitcase, “Am going to change.”
Why, I’m not necessarily sure. He was standing there wearing a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. It was basically all Zachary ever wore. All of my jeans looked the same- faded and worn in with that “are those from the women’s or men’s department?” look. Every t-shirt I brought on the trip was plain and tight- but not so tight it looked tacky. Apparently he find my style too stuffy.
I watched Zachary dig through my suitcase and pull out various semi-wrinkled shirts. He held each of them up and examined them before digging back in and pulling out another.
“Does it really matter which shirt you choose?” I said from the bathroom doorway. “It’ll probably come off at the club anyway, considering the crap you pulled last night.”
The comment could have been considered a light-hearted joke, but it was clear by my tone that it was not. There was an edge to my tone- an edge of aggression. I hadn’t meant for it to be there, but sometimes I have to try and knock him down a few pegs.
He glanced up at me with a half-hurt, half-angry look on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Stop talking, Taylor. Stop talking now and just let it be. Walk over there and hug him from the back instead of causing an argument. Do something cute and flirty- don’t escalate this.
I shrugged. “Just means that if you intend on becoming completely inebriated like you were last night, it shouldn’t really matter what you wear because you will strip it off anyway.”
Bad, Taylor. Bad. What happened to cute and flirty?
Zac raised an agitated eyebrow. “Completely inebriated? Wait a second, who was the one who dragged your ass out to the taxi last night?”
I opened my mouth to protest but he continued talking.
“Who was the one who dragged you upstairs to our room?”
“Still-”
“Who put you to bed while you laid there mumbling stupid bullshit to me that I pretended to ignore?”
Okay. That got my attention. What?
“What was that?”
“You heard me,” Zachary shrugged.
I had to replay his comment again in my mind to make sure I was understanding right. He said that the night before I had I laid there mumbling stupid bullshit- stupid bullshit that he pretended to ignore… Certainly I didn’t remember any of it.
“What did I say to you…?” I said, averting my eyes and staring at his legs inside of his face because I hated his eyes when they were angry. To be honest, I didn’t necessarily want to hear the answer.
Zac shrugged and pulled his shirt off, and I almost had to force myself not to check him out at that moment. Trust me, I would have liked to, but it just didn’t seem appropriate considering the context of our conversation.
“Well for instance, when I was helping you take your jeans off so you could get into bed you accused me of trying to rape you.”
“I did?”
Zac shrugged. “And you told me that just because everyone in LA was okay with me taking advantage of them and whoring myself, it didn’t mean you were.”
Okay, now I felt like an ass. Then again, was he lying to me again? He’d lied to me about the night before once already- was he just making up more stories?
“Did I really…?” I said, finally making eye contact and regretting it after I felt how cold his eyes were. “Are you just pulling my leg again?”
“Oh my god,” Zachary sighed and shook his head, pulling a fresh shirt on and picking a few particles of lint off of it. “Yeah, Taylor. Because I would lie about this. You really don’t know me as well as you think you do, do you?”
“I don’t think I know you well at all, actually…” I mumbled but he just ignored me.
“Oh, I completely forgot the highlight of your accusations last night- the part where you accused me of haing a whole assortment of STDs that you might contract- when I “raped you” that is.”
Fuck.
“Zaac …”
He shrugged again. “Whatever. What was said was said. Forget it.”
But clearly he hadn’t forgotten it because he was still bringing it up. I for one felt like a complete ass and wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it until the problem was resolved. Unfortunately though, unlike Zachary, I needed time to think about it and sort it all out in my mind. Unlike Zac, I didn’t feel that every problem needed to be solved the moment it came up.
“Okay. We'll forget it then,” I nodded and stuffed my wallet into my back pocket so I would be ready to go when he was.
He glanced at me, stared me down for a moment, and then shook his head angrily. Then he just grabbed the room key and headed for the door saying, “Let’s just get to a bar before I seriously lose it.”
I followed behind him quietly, him a step ahead of me the entire time to the elevator. He refused to look at me. He just looked around at all the objects and people but me as if I didn’t even exist. As we got out of the elevator, I was beginning to feel a bit tipsy and that tipsiness almost inspired me to bring it all back up, but I didn’t want him to lash out. I wanted him to have a chance to calm down before we had to discuss it again.
So I just followed him through the streets of Barcelona with a cigarette between my fingers as we made our way to the seaside night club- paying no attention to where we were going or anything around me. I just stared at the back of Zachary as he practically ran through the crowds, making sure I was always behind him instead of next to him.
When we arrived to the nameless club that I can hardly remember anything about, Zachary stopped before he went inside and turned to me.
“Why don’t you just go back to the hotel? I’m not going to enjoy your company tonight anyway,” he spat.
I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just stood there stupidly and said. “Okay…”
He huffed and rolled his eyes when I said it. “I honestly don’t know why I bother with you sometimes. I’ll see you tomorrow or something…”
I nodded hesitantly. I didn’t want to go back to the hotel. I’d be lonely. I didn’t want to leave Zachary alone in a night club where god only knew what kind of trouble he’d wind up in. Considering his track record, he didn’t do well when he was pissed off and piss drunk.
“Call me if you need me…?” was what I offered him.
He narrowed his eyes to two little, furious slits. “You know what hurts me, Taylor? You know what really pisses me off? That you won’t fight for me. I’m standing here clearly telling you I’m hurt and you don’t do anything to try and make it better. I know I’m not an easy person to deal with when I’m upset, but you could have some fucking balls and at least address the bullshit you said to me last night instead of acting like a fucking coward.”
What I don’t think he understood was that he wasn’t standing there telling me he was hurt. He was standing there telling me he was furious with me- and his anger was scary. It intimidated me and that’s why I didn’t say anything worthwhile. Then again, if I knew him and loved him like I was supposed to, I should have stopped myself and realized that angry Zac was upset Zac, and even though it wasn’t always justifiable, that’s just how he was and I had to suck up his faults and deal with them. Of course, I didn’t realize this till quite awhile afterwards.
At that moment, I just said, “I don’t know what you want me to say to you…” I won’t make any excuses for myself. It was a really shitty, lazy thing to say. I have no justification for it.
Zac shook his head slowly and sighed. “Nothing. I don’t want you to say anything.” And with that as his final statement, he took one final look at me and then disappeared behind the class doors of the night club.
I stood there for a few moments after he left contemplating what to do. I paced a bit and watched the selection of people going inside, finding myself wondering if any of them might replace me for the night. I kicked a bench on the side of the street. I glanced down at my cell phone frantically every two minutes- hoping maybe he’d call me and not only forgive me, but apologize himself.
I wanted to be angry at Zac. I wanted to get all worked up about how he’s so irrational and spastic and scary when he’s mad that he can’t blame me for being so meek about it all. I wanted to tell myself that if only he had been more calm, I would have been more apologetic.
But the truth was, I wasn’t mad at Zachary. I was mad at myself. I was mad at myself for having the doubts I have about him and for not only questioning his good intentions in my head, but for questioning them out loud when I was drunk. I was furious that I had actually asked him that question about STDs like some immature little snot. Who the hell did I think I was? When I told Zac I loved him, I didn’t mean I loved the good things about him. I meant I loved everything about him. He was difficult when he was hurt, sure, but if I couldn’t deal with it and try to make him feel better regardless, then I didn’t deserve him. Usually Zac made the mistakes and I got used to him fixing things. I guess I had begun to think he would fix even my mistakes for us.
Eventually I tentatively took my phone back out of my pocket and called him. He didn’t pick up so I kicked that same bench once more and then screamed some expletive that I also don’t remember. I think it was fuck. To my surprise, a moment later he called back.
“Hello?” I forced myself to ask. I wanted to talk to him but a the same time I didn’t want to. When I say Zachary is scary when mad, I’m not just being dramatic. He is.
“You called?”
“Uhhh.. yeah. Can you come back outside? I want to talk this out with you. I have some things I need to say about last night.”
My straight-forward request excited me. Look at me! Addressing Zachary with confidence and boldness! He was going to be impressed for once.
“What for? So you can insult me some more?”
Okay. Or not.
“ Zachary …” I sighed and then didn’t know what to say. So we were silent for a moment and I heard the clanking of glasses behind him. The bar. Of course.
“If you called me up so we could sit in silence, then I’m going to get off the phone.”
“Just come outside…” I pleaded.
“Why should I?”
“Because… I told you. I need to talk to you. Please.”
He paused and then said. “Are you going to act like a gutless coward again?”
“No.” What other answer was there?
After a moment he sighed loudly into the phone and said. “After a few more shots I'll be down,” and then he hung up.
I sat on the abused bench and stared at the cars passing trying to make sense of it all. We were only a few days into our travels and already the days were filled with drama after drama after drama. It was exhausting. Everyday was like an emotional roller coaster ride with Zachary. When things were good, they were really good. He was squeezing my hand and running his eyes up and down my body and telling me he loved me. When things were bad, they were hell. He was drunk, angry, and although I hated to admit it, seemingly dishonest about things that I couldn’t quite pin down. We had barely just boarded the rollercoaster and I was already nauseas from the ups and downs.
Eventually Zac came and sat down next to me on the bench without saying a word. I was startled by his presence but knew immediately I needed to say something first or all hell would break loose.
And that’s when it occurred to me. It probably wasn’t the best time to realize it because it was the moment that I needed to be talking- fixing things with Zac instead of just sitting there thinking about him. But I realized then that Zachary had spent four years chasing me- and maybe sometimes he needed to be chased back. That’s why he walked ahead of me quietly on the way to the club. That’s why he told me to go home. He wanted me to go after him, for once, and yet I never did.
“I shouldn’t have let you go into that club alone,” I finally said. “I should have went after you. For all the times you’ve followed after me, fighting for me, I should have fought for you. You’re right. I get it.”
He nodded slowly.
My natural instinct was to stop talking and let him handle the situation from there. I felt scared taking control of the conversation and being the initiator instead of just the responder. But I knew although it was hard to tell sometimes, Zac tried fucking hard to adapt for me, and I needed to adapt for him at that moment. I forced myself to keep talking. I just started talking, hoping the right words would naturally come. It was better than being silent, I figured.
“ Zac … I… you have to understand… I didn’t mean what I said last night,” I said, celebrating that I had figured out where to take the apology. “I’m sorry that I said those things and since I was drunk you might claim that what I said were honest representations of what I think of you, but that’s not true. Sure, do I sometimes get upset that you slept with other people in LA and do I get cynical about it? Definitely. But I don’t think you’re a whore and I don’t think I’m going to contract STDs from you. I don’t know why I said that.”
I was on a roll. I was beginning to feel really proud of myself.
“Honestly, I don’t think you’d ever rape me or anything ridiculous like that- but I guess I have to admit that I honestly didn’t know if you’d try and do stuff with me when I was really, really drunk.”
“But I-”
“But you told me this morning you would not, and now I believe you. I'm sorry if what I said last night hurt you, but you know that I am being honest when I say I never meant to.”
He nodded appreciatively.
“I’m sick of fighting with you…” he said quietly.
I sighed and nodded. “I’m sick of fighting with you too. When we were just talking on the phone and you were in Tulsa and I were in London , it was so easy to only have good conversations.”
Zac smiled. “Cause when you got on my nerves, I could hang up the phone. Simple as that. Now when you’re pissing me off I have no escape.”
“Thanks a lot,” I chuckled although I knew I deserved it. We were quiet again so I took the opportunity to explain a little more. “I know you get mad when you’re angry with me and I don’t apologize or explain immediately, but I’m not like you, Zachary. I can’t process stuff as quickly as you can. I need some time to sort stuff out in my mind. So if I don’t apologize right away, it’s not because I’m not sorry.”
He shrugged. “I know. You’ve always been like this. And it’s always frustrated me.”
That made me sad. I didn’t want to frustrate him. I tried really hard to be cool and funny and exciting around Zachary because I knew he was and I wanted him to approve of me, but I guess I never tried hard enough to be sensitive enough. Ironic that as sensitive as I am, that was where I fell short with Zac.
Because I felt I owed it to him, and because he smelled so good and looked so cute and felt so warm next to me, I reached out and took his hand in mine. He easily let his fingers intertwine with mine.
“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” I almost whispered.
He smiled gently. “Thanks for not killing me for stripping on top of a table.”
And then we both laughed because how could we not? I stopped to visualize the mental image of it again and got another burst of laughter.
“Okay, it’s not that funny!” He said and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad my humiliating moments are so hilarious to you.”
I shrugged. “With moments like those, how can they not be?”
We both turned around and looked over our shoulders at the doors of the club as they opened and music blasted out from the inside.
“Want to go inside…?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“What?! You were the one who insisted we come here. You were the one who said that if we didn’t get to a bar, you’d lose it.”
Zac smirked. “Yeah, and I already had my fair share at the bar.”
Oh, god. How much had did he drink while he was inside? I wondered if I was going to be peeling him off the pavement eventually.
“Don’t worry,” he assured me immediately. “I only drank about half as much as I drank last night. Actually, I’m feeling pretty good. Really good.”
“Good,” I nodded, trusting him for once.
He stood up and dragged me up too, refusing to let go of my hand. Then he began to pull me towards the sidewalk. I thought at first he had changed his mind and he was pulling me into the club, but he didn’t. He walked us right by the front door to it and began walking the way we came from.
“Where are we going?”
Zachary shrugged but I couldn’t help but notice the subtle smirk on his face. “Hotel. I’m not in a clubbing mood.”
“Oh,” I said, innocently and naively until I understood the implication of his smirk. “OH!”
He looked at me like I was crazy and then laughed. “But, Mr. I would hardly drink two shots before we left, when we get to the hotel you are taking a big swig of that rum and if you complain about it, I reserve the right to whack you around for being such a pussy."
If we were going back to the hotel for the… um, well for the reason I thought we were going back, then I most certainly was willing to take the said swig. If I didn’t, I would be an uptight, terrified wreck.
"Zac," I smirked confidently. "You can reserve the right to whack me around whenever you want."
He stopped walking for a second, raised an eyebrow at me, and then tossed his his head back in laughter. "Taylor Hanson..." he teased. "You are not making a sexual innuendo that implies me spending quality time with your cock, are you?"
The bluntness of his statement and word choice took me back for a moment but I recovered quickly and gave him an innocent look. Unfortunately, although I was trying my best to conceal it, a smile began to creep across my face. "Of course not," I said.
It was my first lie of the night.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Zaylor / Hancest
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks to: Honor @beyondthethorns
About the story: Zac & Taylor's relationship broke up when they got caught kissing by the press and their career were over in a split of a second. To continue a normal life and to take a break from his brother, Taylor starts to study at a College in London but the long distance between them can't stop their feelings for each other.
I apologize. No Zaylor sex scenes in this chapter, but you are close :)
As you might have been able to guess, since Zachary humored me with the museum adventure in the morning, he dragged us to yet another club that night. Usually I cared, but not that night. He’d been such a good sport earlier first of all. Secondly, I was learning that just loosening up, having a few drinks, and refusing to let myself get mad at him was a lot more enjoyable then being resentful the entire night.
I honestly cannot tell you the name of the beach club he chose because I was tipsy and upset when we finally got there. Zac bought a bottle of liquor at a store next to our hotel before we left and insisted that I take a few shots before I got to the club.
“You could use some pre-gaming,” he said in a business-like tone as he poured some of the brown alcohol into a plastic cup from the bathroom. “I think that if you have a few shots here, you’ll be glad you did when we get to the club.”
I tossed the alcohol down my throat and then proceeded to lean over the bathroom sink making theatrical gagging sounds. God, it was hell in a bottle, I swear. Revolting.
Zachary rolled his eyes from the doorway and held the bottle to his lips, taking a sip and shrugging. I couldn’t help but notice him slightly cringe but he just gave me an easy smile to maintain his dignity and said, “It’s not that bad. Don’t be dramatic.”
That was the point when he poured more of it into the plastic cup I was still clenching.
“That is way more than a shot,” I eyed the drink.
“No it’s not. It’s a shot. Trust me. Just drink it.”
I gave him a suspicious look. Trust him? Hah. Right. When it comes to Zachary Hanson and his alcohol, to be trusting is to be naive. “That’s like twice as much as the first amount you gave me. I don’t believe you.”
He sighed. “The first drink you took wasn’t even a full shot. Will you stop analyzing and just drink? Geez, you kill all the fun in drinking.”
Which is why I never drank. Although I had a lot of friends during my teenage years who constantly invited me to parties where the main activity was alcohol consumption, I almost always politely declined their invitations. Alcohol made me nervous. Maybe because I knew Zachary was off in LA running down Sunset Blvd half-naked, drunk off his ass. Maybe because I was scared of what I might do if I drank. Maybe I was afraid that because I could no longer be justifiably addicted to Zac, I’d find a new addiction and end up at AA meetings before the age of twenty.
When I did go to drinking parties, I always awkwardly held a beer in my hand all night- doing nothing more than examine the liquid’s transformation from icy cold and bubbly to lukewarm and flat.
My buddies could come by with strange concoctions and hold them to my lips saying, “Alright, Tay, just sip this.”
“What’s in it?” I’d pull my head away from the alcoholic stench and examine the muddy liquid.
“Just some tequila,” they’d respond.
“What kind of tequila…?”
Stalling.
“Jose Cuervo. Just shut up and drink it.”
“Jose Cuervo? I’m more of a cabo kind of person….” I only knew what Cabo was because Zac used to talk about it a lot.
“This is all we have, Tay. Are you going to drink it?”
“How many shots are in it?”
At this point they would give up on me, give me a hearty but frustrated slap on the shoulder blade, and then wander off to pass the drink off to someone less tense.
As I stood there reminiscing about those high school parties, I completely forgot for a moment that Zachary was standing there waiting for me to take the shot… or shot and a half, as I believed it to be.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Zac said, smirking and glancing at his watch. “Take your time, buddy.”
"If I don't drink fast enough for you, then maybe I should just stay back at the hotel while you go to the club alone…” I threatened, not appreciating him rushing me. I was still recovering from the first shot.
He got the picture and sat down on the toilet seat. Zac sighed and took another lazy sip from the bottle. He rested the bottle on his thigh and gazed off at the wall for a moment. He was doing that staring thing, where he’s staring but you know he has no idea what he’s staring at. His eyes are just locked in thought.
After a moment I threw the shot back and tossed the cup into the sink, stumbling a bit because the taste was so bad. Zachary finally looked back at me and chuckled at my lurching.
“You’re too much…” he chuckled and then screwed the cap on the bottle and set it on the side of the sink. “But you’re a light weight, that should be enough for now. What are you planning on wearing?”
I glanced down at my jeans and polo shit. “This?”
He paused for a second before saying, “Alright.”
“Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
Zachary shrugged. “It’s fine.”
He was beginning to get on my nerves. Every second there was something wrong with me. I didn’t drink well enough, my outfit was ugly… what was next? My teeth weren’t straight enough or my haircut was distasteful?
“I, however,” he began, moseying into the bedroom and going over to my suitcase, “Am going to change.”
Why, I’m not necessarily sure. He was standing there wearing a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. It was basically all Zachary ever wore. All of my jeans looked the same- faded and worn in with that “are those from the women’s or men’s department?” look. Every t-shirt I brought on the trip was plain and tight- but not so tight it looked tacky. Apparently he find my style too stuffy.
I watched Zachary dig through my suitcase and pull out various semi-wrinkled shirts. He held each of them up and examined them before digging back in and pulling out another.
“Does it really matter which shirt you choose?” I said from the bathroom doorway. “It’ll probably come off at the club anyway, considering the crap you pulled last night.”
The comment could have been considered a light-hearted joke, but it was clear by my tone that it was not. There was an edge to my tone- an edge of aggression. I hadn’t meant for it to be there, but sometimes I have to try and knock him down a few pegs.
He glanced up at me with a half-hurt, half-angry look on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Stop talking, Taylor. Stop talking now and just let it be. Walk over there and hug him from the back instead of causing an argument. Do something cute and flirty- don’t escalate this.
I shrugged. “Just means that if you intend on becoming completely inebriated like you were last night, it shouldn’t really matter what you wear because you will strip it off anyway.”
Bad, Taylor. Bad. What happened to cute and flirty?
Zac raised an agitated eyebrow. “Completely inebriated? Wait a second, who was the one who dragged your ass out to the taxi last night?”
I opened my mouth to protest but he continued talking.
“Who was the one who dragged you upstairs to our room?”
“Still-”
“Who put you to bed while you laid there mumbling stupid bullshit to me that I pretended to ignore?”
Okay. That got my attention. What?
“What was that?”
“You heard me,” Zachary shrugged.
I had to replay his comment again in my mind to make sure I was understanding right. He said that the night before I had I laid there mumbling stupid bullshit- stupid bullshit that he pretended to ignore… Certainly I didn’t remember any of it.
“What did I say to you…?” I said, averting my eyes and staring at his legs inside of his face because I hated his eyes when they were angry. To be honest, I didn’t necessarily want to hear the answer.
Zac shrugged and pulled his shirt off, and I almost had to force myself not to check him out at that moment. Trust me, I would have liked to, but it just didn’t seem appropriate considering the context of our conversation.
“Well for instance, when I was helping you take your jeans off so you could get into bed you accused me of trying to rape you.”
“I did?”
Zac shrugged. “And you told me that just because everyone in LA was okay with me taking advantage of them and whoring myself, it didn’t mean you were.”
Okay, now I felt like an ass. Then again, was he lying to me again? He’d lied to me about the night before once already- was he just making up more stories?
“Did I really…?” I said, finally making eye contact and regretting it after I felt how cold his eyes were. “Are you just pulling my leg again?”
“Oh my god,” Zachary sighed and shook his head, pulling a fresh shirt on and picking a few particles of lint off of it. “Yeah, Taylor. Because I would lie about this. You really don’t know me as well as you think you do, do you?”
“I don’t think I know you well at all, actually…” I mumbled but he just ignored me.
“Oh, I completely forgot the highlight of your accusations last night- the part where you accused me of haing a whole assortment of STDs that you might contract- when I “raped you” that is.”
Fuck.
“Zaac …”
He shrugged again. “Whatever. What was said was said. Forget it.”
But clearly he hadn’t forgotten it because he was still bringing it up. I for one felt like a complete ass and wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it until the problem was resolved. Unfortunately though, unlike Zachary, I needed time to think about it and sort it all out in my mind. Unlike Zac, I didn’t feel that every problem needed to be solved the moment it came up.
“Okay. We'll forget it then,” I nodded and stuffed my wallet into my back pocket so I would be ready to go when he was.
He glanced at me, stared me down for a moment, and then shook his head angrily. Then he just grabbed the room key and headed for the door saying, “Let’s just get to a bar before I seriously lose it.”
I followed behind him quietly, him a step ahead of me the entire time to the elevator. He refused to look at me. He just looked around at all the objects and people but me as if I didn’t even exist. As we got out of the elevator, I was beginning to feel a bit tipsy and that tipsiness almost inspired me to bring it all back up, but I didn’t want him to lash out. I wanted him to have a chance to calm down before we had to discuss it again.
So I just followed him through the streets of Barcelona with a cigarette between my fingers as we made our way to the seaside night club- paying no attention to where we were going or anything around me. I just stared at the back of Zachary as he practically ran through the crowds, making sure I was always behind him instead of next to him.
When we arrived to the nameless club that I can hardly remember anything about, Zachary stopped before he went inside and turned to me.
“Why don’t you just go back to the hotel? I’m not going to enjoy your company tonight anyway,” he spat.
I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just stood there stupidly and said. “Okay…”
He huffed and rolled his eyes when I said it. “I honestly don’t know why I bother with you sometimes. I’ll see you tomorrow or something…”
I nodded hesitantly. I didn’t want to go back to the hotel. I’d be lonely. I didn’t want to leave Zachary alone in a night club where god only knew what kind of trouble he’d wind up in. Considering his track record, he didn’t do well when he was pissed off and piss drunk.
“Call me if you need me…?” was what I offered him.
He narrowed his eyes to two little, furious slits. “You know what hurts me, Taylor? You know what really pisses me off? That you won’t fight for me. I’m standing here clearly telling you I’m hurt and you don’t do anything to try and make it better. I know I’m not an easy person to deal with when I’m upset, but you could have some fucking balls and at least address the bullshit you said to me last night instead of acting like a fucking coward.”
What I don’t think he understood was that he wasn’t standing there telling me he was hurt. He was standing there telling me he was furious with me- and his anger was scary. It intimidated me and that’s why I didn’t say anything worthwhile. Then again, if I knew him and loved him like I was supposed to, I should have stopped myself and realized that angry Zac was upset Zac, and even though it wasn’t always justifiable, that’s just how he was and I had to suck up his faults and deal with them. Of course, I didn’t realize this till quite awhile afterwards.
At that moment, I just said, “I don’t know what you want me to say to you…” I won’t make any excuses for myself. It was a really shitty, lazy thing to say. I have no justification for it.
Zac shook his head slowly and sighed. “Nothing. I don’t want you to say anything.” And with that as his final statement, he took one final look at me and then disappeared behind the class doors of the night club.
I stood there for a few moments after he left contemplating what to do. I paced a bit and watched the selection of people going inside, finding myself wondering if any of them might replace me for the night. I kicked a bench on the side of the street. I glanced down at my cell phone frantically every two minutes- hoping maybe he’d call me and not only forgive me, but apologize himself.
I wanted to be angry at Zac. I wanted to get all worked up about how he’s so irrational and spastic and scary when he’s mad that he can’t blame me for being so meek about it all. I wanted to tell myself that if only he had been more calm, I would have been more apologetic.
But the truth was, I wasn’t mad at Zachary. I was mad at myself. I was mad at myself for having the doubts I have about him and for not only questioning his good intentions in my head, but for questioning them out loud when I was drunk. I was furious that I had actually asked him that question about STDs like some immature little snot. Who the hell did I think I was? When I told Zac I loved him, I didn’t mean I loved the good things about him. I meant I loved everything about him. He was difficult when he was hurt, sure, but if I couldn’t deal with it and try to make him feel better regardless, then I didn’t deserve him. Usually Zac made the mistakes and I got used to him fixing things. I guess I had begun to think he would fix even my mistakes for us.
Eventually I tentatively took my phone back out of my pocket and called him. He didn’t pick up so I kicked that same bench once more and then screamed some expletive that I also don’t remember. I think it was fuck. To my surprise, a moment later he called back.
“Hello?” I forced myself to ask. I wanted to talk to him but a the same time I didn’t want to. When I say Zachary is scary when mad, I’m not just being dramatic. He is.
“You called?”
“Uhhh.. yeah. Can you come back outside? I want to talk this out with you. I have some things I need to say about last night.”
My straight-forward request excited me. Look at me! Addressing Zachary with confidence and boldness! He was going to be impressed for once.
“What for? So you can insult me some more?”
Okay. Or not.
“ Zachary …” I sighed and then didn’t know what to say. So we were silent for a moment and I heard the clanking of glasses behind him. The bar. Of course.
“If you called me up so we could sit in silence, then I’m going to get off the phone.”
“Just come outside…” I pleaded.
“Why should I?”
“Because… I told you. I need to talk to you. Please.”
He paused and then said. “Are you going to act like a gutless coward again?”
“No.” What other answer was there?
After a moment he sighed loudly into the phone and said. “After a few more shots I'll be down,” and then he hung up.
I sat on the abused bench and stared at the cars passing trying to make sense of it all. We were only a few days into our travels and already the days were filled with drama after drama after drama. It was exhausting. Everyday was like an emotional roller coaster ride with Zachary. When things were good, they were really good. He was squeezing my hand and running his eyes up and down my body and telling me he loved me. When things were bad, they were hell. He was drunk, angry, and although I hated to admit it, seemingly dishonest about things that I couldn’t quite pin down. We had barely just boarded the rollercoaster and I was already nauseas from the ups and downs.
Eventually Zac came and sat down next to me on the bench without saying a word. I was startled by his presence but knew immediately I needed to say something first or all hell would break loose.
And that’s when it occurred to me. It probably wasn’t the best time to realize it because it was the moment that I needed to be talking- fixing things with Zac instead of just sitting there thinking about him. But I realized then that Zachary had spent four years chasing me- and maybe sometimes he needed to be chased back. That’s why he walked ahead of me quietly on the way to the club. That’s why he told me to go home. He wanted me to go after him, for once, and yet I never did.
“I shouldn’t have let you go into that club alone,” I finally said. “I should have went after you. For all the times you’ve followed after me, fighting for me, I should have fought for you. You’re right. I get it.”
He nodded slowly.
My natural instinct was to stop talking and let him handle the situation from there. I felt scared taking control of the conversation and being the initiator instead of just the responder. But I knew although it was hard to tell sometimes, Zac tried fucking hard to adapt for me, and I needed to adapt for him at that moment. I forced myself to keep talking. I just started talking, hoping the right words would naturally come. It was better than being silent, I figured.
“ Zac … I… you have to understand… I didn’t mean what I said last night,” I said, celebrating that I had figured out where to take the apology. “I’m sorry that I said those things and since I was drunk you might claim that what I said were honest representations of what I think of you, but that’s not true. Sure, do I sometimes get upset that you slept with other people in LA and do I get cynical about it? Definitely. But I don’t think you’re a whore and I don’t think I’m going to contract STDs from you. I don’t know why I said that.”
I was on a roll. I was beginning to feel really proud of myself.
“Honestly, I don’t think you’d ever rape me or anything ridiculous like that- but I guess I have to admit that I honestly didn’t know if you’d try and do stuff with me when I was really, really drunk.”
“But I-”
“But you told me this morning you would not, and now I believe you. I'm sorry if what I said last night hurt you, but you know that I am being honest when I say I never meant to.”
He nodded appreciatively.
“I’m sick of fighting with you…” he said quietly.
I sighed and nodded. “I’m sick of fighting with you too. When we were just talking on the phone and you were in Tulsa and I were in London , it was so easy to only have good conversations.”
Zac smiled. “Cause when you got on my nerves, I could hang up the phone. Simple as that. Now when you’re pissing me off I have no escape.”
“Thanks a lot,” I chuckled although I knew I deserved it. We were quiet again so I took the opportunity to explain a little more. “I know you get mad when you’re angry with me and I don’t apologize or explain immediately, but I’m not like you, Zachary. I can’t process stuff as quickly as you can. I need some time to sort stuff out in my mind. So if I don’t apologize right away, it’s not because I’m not sorry.”
He shrugged. “I know. You’ve always been like this. And it’s always frustrated me.”
That made me sad. I didn’t want to frustrate him. I tried really hard to be cool and funny and exciting around Zachary because I knew he was and I wanted him to approve of me, but I guess I never tried hard enough to be sensitive enough. Ironic that as sensitive as I am, that was where I fell short with Zac.
Because I felt I owed it to him, and because he smelled so good and looked so cute and felt so warm next to me, I reached out and took his hand in mine. He easily let his fingers intertwine with mine.
“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” I almost whispered.
He smiled gently. “Thanks for not killing me for stripping on top of a table.”
And then we both laughed because how could we not? I stopped to visualize the mental image of it again and got another burst of laughter.
“Okay, it’s not that funny!” He said and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad my humiliating moments are so hilarious to you.”
I shrugged. “With moments like those, how can they not be?”
We both turned around and looked over our shoulders at the doors of the club as they opened and music blasted out from the inside.
“Want to go inside…?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“What?! You were the one who insisted we come here. You were the one who said that if we didn’t get to a bar, you’d lose it.”
Zac smirked. “Yeah, and I already had my fair share at the bar.”
Oh, god. How much had did he drink while he was inside? I wondered if I was going to be peeling him off the pavement eventually.
“Don’t worry,” he assured me immediately. “I only drank about half as much as I drank last night. Actually, I’m feeling pretty good. Really good.”
“Good,” I nodded, trusting him for once.
He stood up and dragged me up too, refusing to let go of my hand. Then he began to pull me towards the sidewalk. I thought at first he had changed his mind and he was pulling me into the club, but he didn’t. He walked us right by the front door to it and began walking the way we came from.
“Where are we going?”
Zachary shrugged but I couldn’t help but notice the subtle smirk on his face. “Hotel. I’m not in a clubbing mood.”
“Oh,” I said, innocently and naively until I understood the implication of his smirk. “OH!”
He looked at me like I was crazy and then laughed. “But, Mr. I would hardly drink two shots before we left, when we get to the hotel you are taking a big swig of that rum and if you complain about it, I reserve the right to whack you around for being such a pussy."
If we were going back to the hotel for the… um, well for the reason I thought we were going back, then I most certainly was willing to take the said swig. If I didn’t, I would be an uptight, terrified wreck.
"Zac," I smirked confidently. "You can reserve the right to whack me around whenever you want."
He stopped walking for a second, raised an eyebrow at me, and then tossed his his head back in laughter. "Taylor Hanson..." he teased. "You are not making a sexual innuendo that implies me spending quality time with your cock, are you?"
The bluntness of his statement and word choice took me back for a moment but I recovered quickly and gave him an innocent look. Unfortunately, although I was trying my best to conceal it, a smile began to creep across my face. "Of course not," I said.
It was my first lie of the night.
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Date: 2012-12-04 08:27 pm (UTC)The next Chapter is online girls!
I severed it in two parts because of it's length but don't worry I will update soon! :)