Page 38 of The Princess

“Boyfriends?” Mickey looked surprised and confused.

“Plural. But shhh, it’s a secret. Can you keep a secret?”

Mickey nodded.

“Perfect, then pick up your stuff and get in my car.”

Mickey finally obeyed and followed Taylor to the little silver car he’d purchased used a few years ago. Mickey sat in the passenger seat, smelling as unhappy as he looked. Taylor didn’t want to crack the window and offend him, but he was definitely spray-bombing his car with fabric refresher later.

Mickey was quiet on the short drive, and so was Taylor. He was shocked at his own bold decision to bring Mickey home with him. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have settled for making them come inside the diner to warm up and giving them a meal on the house.

But Taylor had known Mickey in school. Yeah, he was a couple of years older, but Taylor remembered him being one of those happy kids that everyone liked. Mickey was on the track team, but he also hung around the theater kids. And the other jocks. And one of his friends ran the chess club. Everyone loved Mickey, and he seemed to love everyone right back. And then one day he was gone and no one knew what happened.

“This is me,” Taylor said as he slid his key in the lock. “Come on in.”

Taylor kicked his shoes off at the door, and deciding that his own shower could wait, he went down the hallway and grabbed a stack of clean clothes off the dryer. There was a t-shirt Taylor had stolen from Colby a few years ago and a pair of men’s lounge pants. On a whim, he grabbed a pair of thick, fuzzy socks.

He found Mickey still lingering in the doorway, clutching his bag like it was his entire life.

“Hey, how about a shower first while I make us something to eat?” Taylor asked with no real intention of eating much. He’d eat later with Nash, but he was doing his best to navigate this weird situation without upsetting Mickey, who looked spooked with his wide eyes.

Mickey toed his shoes off and looked around at Taylor’s jungle of an apartment.

“Now you see why I’m not concerned with you stealing my shit?”

Mickey’s laugh turned into a cough.

Taylor winced at how painful it sounded. “The steam from a hot shower will help with that, and you can throw your clothes in the washer after. My dad lives upstairs, but he has his own washer and dryer. This used to be a whole separate unit, but I took over after the last tenant moved out.” Taylor rambled at Mickey as he ushered him down the hall and into the bathroom. “Help yourself to anything in here. There are new toothbrushes in the drawer and I don’t care if you use my deodorant or whatever. I have two older brothers,” Taylor said, as if that was enough to explain that he was incapable of being grossed out by the idea.

Taylor turned around and once the bathroom door closed, he paused to mouth what the fuck before going to his kitchen to rummage around and pick out something to make for Mickey. It needed to be filling but easy on the stomach because he wasn’t sure when the last time Mickey had a real meal was.

He settled on making a quick pot of homemade chicken soup with some leftover rotisserie chicken he had and some vegetables. By the time the shower ended and Mickey shuffled out with an armful of dirty clothes, the soup was simmering on the stove.

Taylor took Mickey to the closet that housed his stacked washer and dryer. “You know how to run one of these?” Taylor asked, earning him a scowl from Mickey.

“Duh.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous. Not like you’re going to steal all my plants or anything.”

Mickey’s scowl softened. “Sorry, it’s been a long…life, I guess.” Mickey carefully loaded the washer and Taylor showed him where the soap was.

He almost offered to let Mickey sleep in his bed, but he had a feeling that would be a bridge too far. Instead, he dug out the extra bedding he kept shoved in the linen closet and stacked it on the end of the couch.

Mickey sat down on the other end and then Taylor stood there uncertainly. “Um. I have to shower and stuff. You can watch TV or whatever, get comfy. I have some take and bake bread in the oven and it should be done by the time I’m out and then we can eat.”

God help him, this was fucking awkward. Mickey didn’t seem to want to talk much and Taylor was doing his best not to pry into his life. Even though he was dying to know what the fuck happened. Before he did or said something stupid, he went to his room and quickly chose his outfit for the night. If he’d had more time, he might’ve chosen better, but he didn’t want to leave Mickey alone for too long, at least until he’d had something to eat.

Taylor’s shower was the fastest he’d had in ages. After, he dressed in a standard pair of black skinny jeans, but he’d bought this insanely cute and warm pink sweater that was extra-long, going down past his ass. It had a big cowl style neck that had a nice opening that would show off his bare shoulders. He swiped a quick layer of sparkly pink glitter over his eyelids and frowned at his uncooperative hair before deciding it didn’t matter much because, with any luck, Nash was going to mess it up later.

Mickey was half asleep on the couch when Taylor appeared and pulled the bread out of the oven. He let it cool for a minute while he dished up a bowl of soup for Mickey before slicing it and adding a layer of butter. He set everything on a tray and carried it out to the living room.

Mickey startled and began to rise, but Taylor set the tray on the coffee table. “You might have noticed, but I have plants on every surface in this house, except for this one. I usually eat here in front of the TV. It’s fine.” Taylor went back to the kitchen and grabbed a beer and a pop from the fridge. Once he was back in the living room, he showed them to Mickey. “Pick.”

Mickey looked at him, then at the drinks, then back at Taylor. “The pop will be fine.”

Taylor nodded and handed over the icy can and took the beer back to the fridge.

He picked up a bowl of soup for himself that was mostly broth and when Mickey gave him a serious side-eye, he explained that he usually ate a big lunch at the diner. When Mickey was done, he glanced over at Taylor.

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