"Friends?" I ask, extending my hand to Skylar. She looks down in confusion, and the most adorable giggle escapes her lips before she shakes it. Fuck, I'm smitten with her. I've never once chased after a girl like this, especially not after being rejected multiple times.
I'll put it this way, friends isn't a word I hear very often from a member of the opposite sex.
She looks up at me through those impossibly long lashes and motions me forward with her finger. Has she changed her mind? Has my luck finally changed? I lean forward eagerly, and, slowly, she climbs across the sofa and straddles my legs, looking down at me.
"Roger?"
Skylar puts a hand at the nape of my neck and tugs my hair lightly, forcing me to look up into her hazel eyes.
"Roger."
I lean up towards her, quickly closing the distance as I knot my hand in her dark hair and our lips finally-- fucking finally--crash together. We bypass the shy, exploratory kisses and go straight for the hot-and-heavy ones, my tongue slipping past her lips.
"Roger!"
Suddenly, the sounds of us breathing heavily are replaced by birds chirping aggressively. The image in my head starts to fade as I once again hear my name.
"Roger... time to wake up."
Fuck. Fuck. As I lay there, it all comes back to me. Skylar and I hadn't snogged, not even close. Instead, she had passed out on the sofa, and, shortly thereafter, I'd done the same. We must have slept slumped on each other, which would explain the horrendous ache throughout my body.
My eyelids flutter open to see Skylar kneeling in front of the sofa, those same eyes from my dream looking at me in amusement. I slam my eyes shut, wondering if I pretend to be asleep if she'll just let me crash here for the next 12 hours.
I hear a soft chuckle. "I have to go to work. Time to get up, sleepyhead."
Groaning, I open my eyes fully. Skylar looks to be freshly showered and smartly dressed in a navy v-neck jumper and tight corduroy flares. I wonder what she looks like in her doctor's uniform, my mind wandering to that image, which isn't an unpleasant one. Not. At. All.
Skylar clears her throat, and I realize that I've started to fall back asleep. She hands a mug of tea hands over to me as I reluctantly sit up. Fucking hell, my back. Letting out a groan, I reach back and touch a particularly tender spot.
"Yeah, my back isn't in good shape either," she says with a chuckle. "I'm not sure that the human body is designed to sleep on sofas."
"Did you also play two gigs last night?" I ask cheekily, taking a welcome sip of tea. She's somehow guessed at just the way I like it, which is annoyingly cute.
"What time is it?"
"Early," she says apologetically. "I hated to wake you, especially since you look much more innocent when you're sleeping, but I have to leave for work."
I have a thought, and my eyes brighten.
"What?" she asks suspiciously.
"Sky, this is our very first time sleeping together!"
"Good Lord," she guffaws, hiding her mouth behind her hand. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"So I've been told." I stretch one arm over my head, feeling a horrible burning sensation in my shoulders. My face must convey precisely how much pain I'm in because Skylar gives me a sympathetic smile and peeks over to the fireplace to look at the clock.
"Okay, I have three extra minutes, Taylor. Sit on the floor," she instructs. I'm not sure what she means, but, at this point, I'll do anything this woman wants. I scoot down onto the floor, my back against the foot of the sofa, and she climbs up to perch just behind me.
"This is only because I'm a medical professional and have an ethical responsibility to heal," she warns, likely to stave off a filthy joke on my part. She presses the heel of her hand into my shoulder and begins to massage out the kinks, and it feels like heaven.
Without meaning to, I let out a little groan, which makes her briefly pause. Ugh, she probably thinks that I'm trying to make this into something sexual, but really, she just has magical hands. Christ, I can't say that either, or she'll definitely think I'm trying to be sexual.
"It's this knot right here?" she asks, softly pressing into the sore spot that's radiating pain throughout my upper back. I nod. "Does this help?"
Fuck it, I may as well own who I am.
"Skylar, this is better than sex, so please don't stop what you're doing." She laughs softly and continues what she's doing for another minute or so before running both hands over my shoulders, indicating that she's done. She leans down so that her head is close to my ear.
"I've really gotta go," she whispers just before she hops up and walks over to the door. I can hear her putting on her shoes and getting together her gear for the day, but I sit frozen for a moment. There's no way I can just be friends with this woman, but it's not as if I haven't tried everything possible to win her over.
I suppose friends will have to do for the moment, but I'm not waving the flag of defeat quite yet.
Reluctantly I stand up and walk over to put on my coat. Skylar waits patiently for me, even though I can tell she's getting antsy to get to work. We walk into the freezing cold morning as she locks the door behind us. Once our feet hit the pavement, we turn to look at each other.
Part of me wants to ask when I can see her again, but I don't want to come off as desperate, although I worry that that train may have already left the station. Instead, I cock my head sideways and give her a little smile.
"Well, thanks for letting me sleep with you," I say. Skylar smirks and leans forward to give me a kiss on the cheek.
"See you around, Roger."
With that, she spins around and starts to walk towards the hospital as she zips her coat. I watch her for a second or two before turning the opposite direction towards the taxi stand. I'm just about to light a cigarette when I hear her call my name.
"I just realized that I don't have your number," she calls from where she's stopped halfway down the block. "If you write it down for me, I'll ring you for that coffee."
I nod and walk towards her, grumbling to myself about Skylar and her late morning, not-at-all-romantic coffees. She pulls out a pen and paper, and I scrawl my number.
"We're heading back out on tour in early January," I warn her. "So better strike while the iron is hot."
She gives me a knowing look and tucks the paper into the front pocket of her bag. "I'll do my best. Take care of yourself in the meantime, Roger."
Once again, she whirls around, and speed walks in the opposite direction, very likely late by this point. I lean against her neighbor's gate to have a smoke and figure out what to do with the rest of my day. After six weeks on tour, it feels weird to have an unplanned day. In the end, though, I decide that I'll just go back to sleep.
Ninety minutes later, I walk into my flat and throw my keys on the table. Since I've only stayed here one night in the past six weeks, the place has a slightly musty smell to it. Kicking off my shoes and shrugging off my coat, I stagger into my bedroom, desperate for more sleep. I can function whilst drunk, whilst high, whilst juggling several girls at once... but I cannot function without sleep. It's my Achilles' heel.
Shutting the door behind me, I make my way in the pitch-black over to my bed, feeling around with my hand to be sure I don't run into it. I lay down and sigh, turning to my side. Reaching out for a second pillow to curl up with, my hand hits something warm and human.
"Gaaaah!" I exclaim loudly, sitting up in a fright.
"What the—?" Freddie's voice echoes through the room, as he sits up and looks around as if confused.
"Fred, what the fuck are you doing here?" I hiss to my bandmate.
"What time is it?" he moans, sounding like he's still half-asleep. He flops back onto the bed.
"I don't know, half-nine? That doesn't change the fact that you're in my fucking bed."
"Half-nine in the morning, hmm?" he croons, suddenly sounding more cheerful. "Have a good night, Rog? How'd it go with Skylar?"
"Who said anything about Skylar?" I say too defensively, practically admitting that's where I had been. I hadn't told anyone where I was going last night after the party, as I was tired of the fellows sticking their noses in my business.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Roger, of course, you were running off to see her."
"Oh, really? Why's that?"
"Because you fancy her," he mumbled in an exasperated tone that suggested I was too much of a dolt to figure it out on my own.
"Says who?" Again, I sound overly defensive, and I may as well give up. Freddie sits up, and I can just barely make out his silhouette as he starts to count out reasons on his fingers.
"One, you spent all your money ringing her every night before our gigs. Two, you looked like a little lost puppy anytime Brian rung Jenny, just hoping that your name would come up. Three--"
"Fred, you still haven't told me what the fuck you're doing in my flat," I interrupt hurriedly. "Did you and Mary have a row or something?"
"What? No, no, nothing like that. She left early, and I didn't want to wake her by stumbling home at 4."
"So, you thought you'd wake me by stumbling home at 4?"
"Well, I had your key from a while ago and you live closer. I was going to sleep on the sofa, but, hey, you weren't here, so..."
Giving up, I lay back down on the bed and curled the pillow under my head. Freddie did the same, sighing as he settled back onto the mattress with his back to me.
"Freddie?"
"What?"
"Are you seriously still here? Go to the sofa or go to your own bloody bed."
Grumbling, he got up, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. "Fine, but as soon as you've slept, you're telling me everything about last night."
"Nothing happened," I groaned into the pillow, wishing that I did have some sort of juicy gossip to share. Not that I'd go around telling everyone everything if Skylar and I had gotten up to some naughtiness, but still.
A few hours later, I awaken with a start. I listen for the rumbling of the tour bus or Brian's snoring, but all I hear is quiet. The past 12 hours seem hazy as if there were a dream. I'm about to stuff my head under the pillow in a desperate attempt for several more hours of sleep when my stomach growls pathetically.
With a groan, I peel myself off the bed and pad into the kitchen in search of something to eat. I press my hand into the small of my back to stretch it out, limping slightly as I walk to the cupboard and begin to rummage around.
"You're hobbling around like a granny," a voice rings out across the kitchen. I jump about two feet in the air, slamming the cereal box down on the counter. Looking over at the table, I spot Freddie's eyes peering at me mischievously over a mug of tea that he's holding just in front of his mouth.
"Fucking hell, Fred," I mutter softly. "You're still here?"
He nods and takes a sip of tea. "I just got up. Mary's at work anyway, so I figured I'd stay here to interrogate you."
Rolling my eyes, I silently pour some cereal into my bowl and walk to the table. I poke my spoon at a dry Weetabix, very much wishing that I had milk. Freddie follows my movements with his dark eyes, but neither of us says anything for a few minutes. We've spent so much time together that we no longer feel like we have to fill the silence.
"So, was I right? Did you go see Skylar?" Freddie finally speaks, setting his mug down on the table.
I close my eyes and rub my hand over my face. I've been trying to figure out why Fred is so bloody interested in my romantic misadventures with her. Ever since that night in the pub, he's been invested in the outcome, and, for the life of me, I can't imagine why. It's not as if he's ever cared one bit about any other woman I've been with, unless it's to hear some tales of debauchery.
"Fred, if I didn't know better, I'd think that you fancy her."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Rog, I'm just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat, mate."
Freddie rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his tea. "Okay, fine, don't tell me. But you'll miss out on the valuable counsel I could otherwise provide."
"I don't know how I'll survive without it," I reply dryly. "Cereal?" I proffer the box his way, but he shakes his head and stands, walking over to put the empty mug in the sink.
"See you at the band meeting tomorrow?" he asks as he walks towards the front door and bends down to fetch his shoes.
"I'll be there with bells on," I reply. Freddie smirks as he pulls his coat on, buttoning it up against the cold.