Page 54 of Wish We Were There

“Told you,” Dean said, stifling a grin and glancing over at Rogelio, who rolled his eyes and shoved Dean’s shoulder, mumbling something in Spanish.

“I mean it,” Taylor repeated. On his way offstage, he’d grabbed the setlist closest to him, and it was folded in his back pocket now. He retrieved it and smoothed it out, gently peeled the blue painter’s tape off the edges, then handed it to Rogelio. “Here. You can have this.”

Rogelio took it, staring at the paper with quivering hands for a long moment. Zach had given him a setlist from each of the shows he’d tagged along for; Taylor planned on keeping this setlist for himself, but what was the point? He had at least a hundred other Get Well Soon setlists with all his stuff somewhere. Something told him it would mean a lot more to Rogelio than it would mean to him now.

Rogelio cleared his throat as he folded the setlist into careful fourths and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Thanks, man. I, uh, I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Taylor replied. “And you have my number, right? Feel free to reach out if you ever need anything, okay?”

Rogelio nodded, looking away from both him and Dean with glassy eyes. “I will. Thank you.”

Chapter Twenty

Parker

Rogelio left in a hurry, but Taylor didn’t seem upset—if anything, Parker thought he looked sad to see him go. He watched as Taylor and Dean spoke for a moment longer, then Angie came up alongside them and said something Parker couldn’t hear.

Taylor laughed, as did Angie, then Taylor’s eyes flickered past them to Parker. Parker’s heart sped up—he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face, but Taylor grinned back and gestured for him to come over.

“I’m going to change my shirt, then we’re gonna go down in like ten minutes to say hi to everyone who stayed behind,” Taylor said. “Will you come downstairs with me?”

“Change your shirt?” Parker repeated, stifling a laugh. “What do you mean? You look great.”

Taylor grimaced. “I get so sweaty after shows. If I’m going to be hugging fans, I’d rather do it in dry clothes.”

“Maybe it would be better for me to stay up here if you’ll be talking to fans,” Parker replied. They had discussed how they didn’t want their relationship to be entirely public knowledge yet, at least not until everything with Get Well Soon was officially over.

“But I want you there,” Taylor said, sounding shy. “Maybe you can just wait at the bar?”

Parker melted. He didn’t think he would ever be able to say no to Taylor for anything. “Sure. I’ll wait at the bar.”

Ten minutes later, they were shuffling back down the green room stairs, Taylor wearing a clean, fresh shirt.

A group of about twenty people had lingered in hopes of meeting them, some still hanging out near the stage and some at the bar, though they all congregated as Taylor and the band stepped out from side stage and down to greet them. Parker slipped away in all the noise, sitting down at the now-empty bar.

Moss, the new bartender, grinned at him as he sat down. Parker smiled back; he’d only met Moss a few times, but they’d gotten along well when they’d spoken.

“Howdy,” they said cheerfully. “On moral support duty, huh?”

Parker laughed, nodding. “Yeah, you could say that.” All the staff knew about his and Taylor’s relationship, but they also seemed to understand that it wasn’t public yet, which was a relief. At least they didn’t have to sneak around in the Caesura Room.

“Here,” Moss said, setting an opened bottle of beer in front of him. “It’s on the house.”

Over the next hour, Parker watched as Taylor and the rest of the band hugged and shook the hands of all the fans who had stuck around to see them after the show. Several of them handed Taylor small gifts, or had him sign albums or t-shirts, so many that he had to make a small pile on the stage, a little distance away from all the gifts left at the mic for Zach. Parker worried maybe it would all be too much, too emotionally draining; but every time Taylor looked toward him, he shot Parker a small smile.

Eventually, though, all the lingering fans eventually shuffled out into the night, leaving the band alone in front of the stage. Parker had done his best to chat with Moss, and not eavesdrop too much, but now the venue was much quieter with only a handful of people left. He propped his head up in one hand, elbow on the bar, and watched as the four band members seemed to look silently at each other, as if trying to judge what to do next.

Finally, it was Taylor who offered, “Well... I guess that’s it.”

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. Angie smacked his shoulder again, but was stifling a laugh herself.

“Ladies, gentlemen, it’s been an honor,” Kylie said with an exaggerated bow, which only made Angie giggle more. “Taylor, I have to hand it to you. Being able to drive myself home after a show is definitely better than getting on a tour bus.”

Taylor laughed. “I think so, too.”

Parker chuckled, and Taylor’s head shot in his direction, looking flustered to realize that he was watching. Kylie laughed, waving at him; Parker only raised his beer bottle to them. He would give them their space—it seemed important that they have their last moments as a band together without an intruder.

They talked amongst themselves quietly for a little longer, but Parker could only focus on Taylor. He’d been so nervous about the show for the past week, and his relief was all but palpable—in the way he was holding himself, how easily he smiled, and the sweet lilt of his voice. Even now, in the unglamorous light, Parker swore he almost seemed to glow.

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