Page 39 of The Princess

“You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

For a minute, Taylor thought he meant because of the eyeshadow or the pink sweater, but then Mickey continued.

“You don’t even know me, and you bring me back to your house.”

Taylor shrugged. “I know you enough. You went to the same school, but you were a couple grades ahead. Mickey Sharp, track athlete, golden boy, vanished before graduation. No one knew where you went.”

“I wasn’t sure you recognized me.”

“Well, it’s been a while, but you’re still you.”

Mickey scoffed, and Taylor didn’t know what to say to that. He got to his feet, knowing that if he left now, he’d be earlier than the time he said he’d be at Nash’s but he couldn’t stay here and be subjected to any more awkwardness.

“I’m going to be late if I don’t go, but you should stay the night.”

“I’m stuck here until my clothes dry anyway.” Mickey looked like he was ready to fall over from exhaustion.

“Help yourself to more dinner, or anything that’s in the fridge.”

Taylor stuffed his feet into his shoes. On a whim, he stopped by the washer where Mickey’s backpack was sitting empty, waiting for his meager possessions to be returned to it. He grabbed the fifty bucks he had in his wallet and shoved it in to the bottom of one of the pockets in Mickey’s backpack.

Taylor made himself leave. He hoped Mickey was still there when he got back. And he almost kicked himself for not giving Mickey his number before he remembered that Mickey probably didn’t have a cell phone.

“What happened to you?” Taylor voiced his question out loud in the solitude of the car, then started it and headed to Nash’s.

CHAPTER 17

NASH

When Nash opened his door, Taylor spilled into his apartment looking like an agitated pink marshmallow. A soft pink marshmallow on two very sexy legs who flung his arms around Nash and started talking a mile a minute.

“Please tell me that I’m not insane,” Taylor began.

Nash stiffened. If Taylor was having a breakdown about the three of them, Nash was seriously going to call the whole thing off. Insecurity was one thing, but a constant stream of it was more than he could take.

But then Taylor continued, “I left him in my house. I don’t even know him. Well, I do. Sort of. But I don’t. And I brought him home like a stray cat and just left him there. But he looked like he needed some safety and some solitude, and I think he’s harmless.”

Who was in Taylor’s house? What? Nash tried to wrap his head around all the things Taylor had said, but nothing was making sense yet.

“Come all the way inside and sit down. I’ll get us a beer and you can start at the beginning. Okay?”

Taylor exhaled and gave Nash a nod. He looked relieved already. Like he didn’t even need Nash to solve whatever problem he’d invented for himself, he just wanted someone to listen to him.

“You look pretty tonight,” Nash told him. Taylor wasn’t always in pretty things like this now. Often he still saw Taylor in a lot of familiar things. But this pink sweater was new and so was the shimmery eyeshadow he’d chosen. It was times like this when Taylor really looked like a princess. All soft and sweet and looking for reassurance from his knight in shining armor. One of them, anyway.

Taylor’s cheeks pinked, and Nash brushed a kiss against his mouth before pulling away. “Go get comfortable and I’ll get the drinks.”

Nash entered the living room to see that Taylor sitting on the couch. He’d drawn his legs up next to himself and was busy covering up with the quilt Damon brought over one day and had never taken home. He handed a beer to Taylor and sat down next to him, raising his arm and draping it over the back of the couch so Taylor could snuggle in close.

Taylor took a sip of his beer and let out a sigh. “His name is Mickey Sharp. He was a couple years ahead of me in school, but he was nice. Everyone liked him. He was a track athlete, but he was friends with everyone. And he didn’t hang out with people who were jackasses, you know. Anyway. Right before his graduation, he vanished. No one seemed to know where he was.”

Taylor went on to explain how he found him dumpster-diving behind the diner and how he’d been reluctant to go inside. Which, if he’d just been scrounging in the trash, he was probably too embarrassed, something Taylor picked up on.

“So he’s showered and fed and sitting in my house while I’m not there. Sure, the one thing I have to steal are plants, but it’s weird, right?”

“It’s a little weird. But I trust you, and I trust your instincts. If you think Mickey is harmless, then you’re probably right.”

“He looked too exhausted to cause much harm. Honestly, I think a strong wind could knock him over.”

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