Page 8 of The Princess

TAYLOR

Taylor hated himself for even caring in the first place. So Damon, who liked everyone, didn’t like him. It wasn’t the end of the world. So what if Damon was quick to compliment everyone else, but seldom saw fit to toss one Taylor’s direction. Even if Damon did like him, it was obvious—to Taylor at least—that something was going on between Nash and Damon.

Everyone else might be obtuse, but Taylor wasn’t. Nash watched Damon. Damon watched Nash. Even when they weren’t close, they circled each other like sharks. And when Nash had given Taylor even the smallest bit of attention, Damon had gone in for the kill.

It was fine. Taylor didn’t need to keep crushing on unobtainable men. There were plenty of guys out there who would be lucky to have him. Guys who would say nice things to him.

Taylor chastised himself for having such a low bar.

Damon’s text burned a hole in the back of Taylor’s brain all that night and the next day at work. So he was sorry. So what? He was also taken and Taylor was a jealous little idiot. He’d accept the apology and leave it at that.

Maybe he’d take himself out dancing. All of Taylor’s high school friends had moved on. They’d gone to college and university and otherwise left him in the dust. Some of them kept in touch now and then on social media, but for the most part, Taylor’s social life was sad and pathetic.

His dad was his best friend and Milo was pulling up a close second. But it wasn’t like he could take either of them out to go meet someone. Milo would bring Colby, because where Milo went, Colby followed. And no one wanted their dad to be their wingman.

The grill sizzled as Taylor tossed more bacon on for the next order. He could remember being a kid and watching one of the old chefs at work. No matter how crazy the diner got, the guy never lost his cool. He was remarkable to watch too. All speed and efficiency, both skills hard won over years of practice.

Taylor realized some years later that his sexual awakening had been watching a guy crack eggs with one hand and flip bacon with the other. He had been classically good-looking too. Chiseled jaw. Short hair. Bushy eyebrows. He wore a bandana every day, a red one. Taylor wondered about him sometimes.

The breakfast rush was coming to an end and Taylor plated up the last of the orders, popping them onto the counter for service. When his dad appeared, Taylor motioned to the back door.

“I’m getting some air.”

“I’ll get you if I need you,” his dad replied, taking the plates.

Taylor went out the door and wedged it open with a doorstop. He dropped into the chair he kept out back. Actually, it hadn’t even been him who started keeping it out there. One of their old employees had smoked. An old coffee can, half filled with wet sand, sat nearby, though the butts had long since been emptied.

Taylor didn’t smoke, but he pulled out a pack of gum and popped a piece in his mouth. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the slight chill in the air after standing next to a hot grill all morning. It would be Halloween soon and, before long, Christmas. It would look different this year, now that Spencer and Milo were around. Taylor wanted to be excited about the holiday, but he couldn’t muster up anything except a low-simmering jealousy.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Taylor kept his eyes closed. Maybe if he didn’t open them, Damon wouldn’t be here. It would all be a figment of his imagination.

“Did you get my text?” Damon asked, surely knowing the answer.

Of course Taylor had gotten the text. He’d read it about fifty times, looking for meaning where there was none. Damon was an ass. He was still fucking Nash. He was sorry. There was nothing for him to be sorry for, really. So Taylor said that.

“You didn’t need to apologize.” Taylor made himself open his eyes, just so he wouldn’t look like an idiot.

“I was an asshole.”

Taylor shrugged. He didn’t know how to act around Damon right now. He’d felt weird all day. Since last night when Damon had come trudging over and all but pissed on Nash’s leg. Ever since then, Taylor felt wrong-footed. Like he’d been walking around with his pants on backward.

“It’s fine. You apologized. It’s no big deal.” Taylor would never hold a grudge. Damon was Jonah’s best friend. And he was fucking Colby’s best friend. There was no reason to stay upset about it.

“It’s not fine,” Damon argued. “Taylor… I?—”

Part of him wanted to hustle back into the kitchen and shut the door in Damon’s face. But the part of him that wanted to hear Damon out was louder.

“I was a jerk to you and when I tell you why, you’re going to hate me.”

Taylor crossed his arms over his chest. He really would have to go inside soon because the wind had a cold bite that day.

“I won’t hate you. I know you’re sorry. It’s fine. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“I like you,” Damon blurted.

Taylor furrowed his brow. “Um…thank you? I like you too.”

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