Page 46 of The Time It Takes
Phoebe and Dean glare in sync, and I press my lips together to stop myself from grinning. It’s funny how in tune they are with each other. I don’t know how I missed it before.
“Just ignore them, babe, they’re jealous.”
Taylor leans down to open the cooler and grabs us both a beer. He plops down into the sand and pulls me down next to him, then hands me one. I could almost laugh at how he was dragging me around like a rag doll, but it feels nice because I know that he’s just being protective over me.
He twists the top open as he tells them, “You assholes don’t ask, so I don’t tell.” He throws back the bottle as he brings it to his lips. He was never the type to ask many questions. Taylor has always been about living in the present moment. It’s something I deeply admire about him. If it wasn’t standing directly in front of him then why spend too much time dwelling on it?
It’s why I didn’t hesitate to call him at one moment of weakness. I knew he wouldn’t judge me for any of it and I was right. He welcomed me back with open arms and flirtatious—but meaningless—commentary.
I open my beer but make no move to take a sip. “Don’t listen to him. It was for a gig, and it wasn’t a secret, so don’t look at me like that.” I direct my last sentence to Phoebe who’s looking like slapping me in the face might be fun.
“A gig?” Dean asks, scrunching his face. “What kind of gig?” He tilts back his beer and finishes it.
“She needed a model,” Taylor says so cockily that I roll my eyes. He elbows me in the side. “Isn’t that right? Go on, tell them how only my good looks could do the job justice.”
I stare at him, scowling, though not very hard. “I didn’t need one. A friend did,” I say nonchalantly.
It was when I thought Julian might have a thing for men. It was back when I first met him and everything about him just seemed too good to be true. I struggled to find a flaw in him. It reminded me of Taylor in a way, so when he asked if I knew anyone who’d be interested in wearing paint for one of his shows, I thought of him immediately.
Taylor’s sexuality was never something any of us talked about but was one of those things you just knew if you were ever so lucky to know someone like him.
After several months, Julian finally came clean about it all. He had been hoping I’d act as a canvas for him without directly having to ask me. He was pursuing me the whole time. I felt both awful and amused because while he was trying to get me naked, I sent him Taylor instead. I never told Taylor any of this, which makes it an even better inside joke for Julian and me.
Taylor purses his lips and closes his eyes as he thinks, attempting to sound out his name as if it will come to him that way. “Jar…Jude…Ju—”
“Julian,” I finish for him.
Phoebe raises her eyebrows as she repeats his name. “Julian, huh?”
I don’t look at her as I nod, finally taking a sip of my beer. She’s never been one for discretion.
“Dude is sick with paint,” Taylor chimes. He looks over at Oliver. “You should look into him for some work at the hotels. He’s not just any typical artist, he has people perform his art too. It’s actually really sick.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “Music and art in one. Never seen anything like it.” He shrugs, turning back to Oliver. “All I had to do was get painted on and thankfully I only had to do little dancing. It was still mortifying, but I’m a man who can’t say no to experience.”
I bump his shoulder with mine, a smile tugging my lips at the memory of him awkwardly maneuvering through the steps. “You did great.”
Oliver’s eyes fall to me slowly, but he says nothing. The flames flicker across his features and my posture goes rigid. He just stares at me with that same unreadable expression. Thinking back to what Taylor said—it sounds like a terrible idea. Not because I don’t want Julian to showcase his work, but because I simply don’t want him in the same place my past is. It would only lead to more questions about me that I can’t answer. All the things I’ve spent the majority of my life keeping in the dark.
Phoebe groans as she reaches for her stomach, pulling everyone’s attention to her.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, sounding slightly alarmed.
She waves her hand in the air. “Calm down, mother bear. She just woke up and she’s kicking the shit out of my bladder.”
A smug smile forms on Dean’s lips. “She’s got a lot of catching up to do if she’s going to catch up with her brother out in the water,” Dean responds. Then both of their voices lower and it’s as if they’re in their own little cocoon. I feel something cold rise in my gut, and it feels a lot like jealousy. There’s also something sweet sitting in the bottom of my heart and that’s genuine happiness for my friends—if I’m still deserving enough to call them that.
“You've started Finn with surf lessons already?” I ask.
Phoebe moves her head to the side to look at me as she rests it against Dean’s chest. She nods. “Oh yeah,” she says, jerking her chin at Dean. “A little too soon in my opinion, but mister determination over here is eager to get him started. Thinks he’s going to go pro.” She laughs. “He just started learning how to hold a spoon properly.”
I stare into the tunnel of my beer and smile softly to myself. It’s never too soon to learn how to master the water. I can only imagine what he’ll become if he’s starting now.
Taylor bumps his shoulder into mine gently. “You still surf?”
I shake my head, looking over at him.
“We’re all going out tomorrow if you’re interested.”
I sigh and shake my head again. “I’ll probably just make a fool of myself.”
