29| Empowered as Fuck
I was so lame.
Really. I was so fucking lame.
My hand was halfway in a bag of Chester's hot fries, I was rewatching The Vampire Diaries for the third time, and it was then that I realized just how lame I was. On the lameness scale, I was at least a 7. But really, I was probably a 10. Because my fingers were covered in hot cheesy dust, and I was only paying attention to scenes with Damon Salvatore, which meant that holy shit, I needed to get a fucking grip.
The fight with Cayden had taken a pretty distinct toll on me. I'd sprinted all the way back to my apartment, thankfully, sprinting was kind of something I often did anyway. Still, it was like, a couple of miles to my apartment from the coffee shop, and I hadn't exactly been prepared to just rush out of there like that. And when I'd gotten back to the apartment, I'd gone straight to the punching bag.
Alex called me once in between punching bag moments and lying on the floor trying to catch my breath moments. I didn't answer. Couldn't. She texted me something about her upcoming art show, and I felt like a douche for ignoring her. Then, Jesse called me. Didn't answer. He texted and asked if everything was okay. That was when I slid my phone across the floor from one side of the apartment to the next.
I fell asleep on the floor, and woke up at 5 in the goddamn morning. Unfortunately, my tired ass couldn't get back to sleep, so I ended up turning on The Vampire Diaries and ordering food. Hence, the hot fries.
And that's how I ended up realizing my lameness, getting up from the sofa at now 8 in the morning, and grabbing my phone from off the floor.
8 texts from Alex, 5 from Jesse, 3 from Clay, and 1 from Alexander.
I responded to Alex and Jesse's texts first, telling them that yes, I was okay, and also applauding Alex for the piece of art she sent me a picture of. It was fucking dope. She was so talented. She'd painted this abstract portrait of Idris Elba for her showing the next week, and it was seriously one of the coolest things ever. Almost as cool as the portrait she'd done of me years ago, except that one was definitely cooler because, well, it was me.
And then I checked Clay's texts. I ignored Alexander's for the moment, thinking I'd check it after I saw what Clay had to say.
CLAY: Tyler! If you're not busy today, I have these tickets to a SURPRISE CONCERT!
CLAY: And if you ARE busy, that's totally fine, too, and if you don't like concerts or don't want to come with me, then that's also okay but it sounds pretty fun. I don't know, I'm rambling.
CLAY: It's a bunch of artists, and I'm supposed to keep the thing a surprise, but I just wanted to tell you! Because woo concerts!
My lips curved up into a smile. He was even bubbly over text.
I realized right then just how much a simple text from Clay made me smile, and my heart feel a little less like shit.
"Fuck," I muttered. "I am so lame."
I sprang up from the couch and ran to the bathroom. It was time for a motivational shower. A shower that would give me all the courage I needed to pull myself together, respond to Clay, and get out of my fucking state of self-moping. It didn't matter what Cayden said, or what he thought about me. I shouldn't have been letting his words bother me as much as they did. What matter was what I thought. And though I'd been in a state of self-pity and deprecation, I didn't want to be that person. I didn't want to be the person who got angry and couldn't control it. I'd hurt the people I cared about most in the past, and really, I was so fucking done with that old Tyler Hamilton, I just wanted to drop him in a goddamn shredder and say good riddance.
I wasn't going to hurt Clay. I didn't want to. And I wanted to see him, to go to whatever random concert it was with him. I wanted to stand next to him, hold his hand, kiss him, and eventually, build up the courage to be like, Hey maybe we should actually date now, like legitimately. I knew it would take a minute to be able to bring myself to actually make things official with Clay because in terms of making things official, I was probably the worst. It took me a while. It didn't mean I was putting things off, or that I didn't want to be with Clay. It just meant that I needed time, and a good deal of it to get it together.
But I had my plan: shower, text Clay about the concert, and tell him the truth. I decided to brush off Alexander's text for the day. I could respond tomorrow. Not because I was letting Cayden's words get to me, because I knew, really knew, that texting Alexander wasn't a big deal. He mattered to me, and he always would. But the person that mattered more at the moment was Clay fucking Greenwood.
I'd tell Clay about Alexander, about texting him recently, how he was my only ex-boyfriend and the reason I was able to come out of the closet in the first place. I could tell Clay the truth about all of that, make him see that texting Clay had nothing to do with feelings that were still there or secret desires to get back together, and then it would be okay. I'd detail just how much Alexander did for me when we were together, and I knew Clay would be able to understand why I would want to text Alexander and be friends with him, or at least be friendly with him to some capacity. That would show Cayden. He thought I wasn't being truthful and that I was hiding things, when in reality, I was just slow as fuck to open up. Even the idea of opening up about all the Alexander shit to Clay freaked me out a good deal, but I let the warm water calm my nerves.
If Cayden thought that I was hiding something, if he thought that I wasn't as into Clay as Clay was into me, and if he thought I wasn't giving as much to our somewhat-relationship, then I'd show him that he was wrong.
I'd show him exactly where I stood when it came to my feelings for Clay. And suddenly, I was feeling empowered as fuck.
✿✿✿
The concert was packed into this fairly small concert hall in downtown Atlanta. The stage was pretty big, and there were probably over 500 people in the entire place, but it was like standing in a crowd of some huge rave. Clay and I stood next to each other. We hadn't really known any of the artists so far, and it had been just under an hour, but we were having a blast nonetheless. Clay was dancing to every upbeat song, singing along when he could get the chorus memorized, and god, he was like a fucking epidemic in a good way. Like a Tipping Point epidemic, his energy was intoxicating and I swear, everyone within a 10-foot radius of him couldn't help but reflect his level of energy and pure happiness. It seeped into me in the best way, taking any negative thoughts out of my mind and filling it up with dripping, beautiful, exhilarating gold. I swear, that dude was packed full of gold, inherently good and so fucking great to be around all the time.
I couldn't wait to be more open with him.
I mean, okay. I could wait. Because every time I thought about how I was going to open up to Clay later, the nerves came back, and I was trying my best to not let those get to me. But either way, nerves or not, I was going to do it. Just also not at a super crowded, very loud concert. It would have to wait until it was over, which was totally fine by me. More time to prep myself.
There were moments when pre-recorded music played over the speakers at a slightly quieter volume in between sets from different artists. Now, they were waiting for the stage to be set up for whoever was next, so quieter music was playing, and I had an opportunity to turn and say something to Clay.
"Hey," I said, touching his arm, so he looked over at me. "Thanks for this. The concert, I mean. I needed it."
Clay smiled. "Of course! I wanted you here."
"And I'm really glad about that. Clay," I said, pausing for a second while some announcer came over the intercom to let us know that the next artist would be out in just a minute. "I wanted to talk to you about some things. After the concert. There's just ... I know I haven't been as open, and I'm still kind of afraid of being super transparent. But I ... I want to tell you things. I want you to know that. And–"
In my peripherals, I could see the curtains of the stage opening back up. The crowd was cheering, screaming at the top of their lungs as they had for every other artist. I mentally cursed the concert for not letting me have just a minute longer of silence to be able to finish what I was saying.
But then I heard that voice, that damn Australian accent say, "Thanks for coming out, everybody. I'm Alexander Taylor, and I'm going to play a couple songs for you tonight. This is an older fan favorite."
My head absolutely snapped to look at the stage, eyes widening as I saw my ex-boyfriend, Alexander fucking Taylor, standing on stage with his guitar and a microphone in front of him. While the band seemed to be getting their instruments in check, I pulled out my phone and decided to look at Alexander's text, the one I'd ignored from earlier along with the one I hadn't responded to when Cayden and I were fighting.
ALEXANDER: the next stop is actually in atlanta, right in the city. it's me and a bunch of artists who decided to get together for a little show
ALEXANDER: i'm sorry, i don't know if you're not responding because i freaked you out or not? i thought about telling you sooner, but i didn't want you to think you had to come or anything. if you didn't want to. but i thought i'd let you know that since it's the last stop, i'll be staying in atlanta for a couple of weeks after the concert. if you ever want to meet up and catch up in person, i'll be there.
"Fuck," I muttered, then put my phone away. And that's when Alexander started to play not just any song, but the one he had written for me. I knew it didn't mean anything anymore, really, it was just one of his more popular songs. But I was filled with the same anxious feeling I got every time I heard it.
"I gotta go." And I turned and started pushing my way through the crowd.
I heard Clay say my name, and maybe he was following me, maybe he wasn't. But I shoved through the crowd until I hit the exit and pushed out of the entire venue. When I was finally on the streets of Atlanta, barely brisk night air encapsulating me, I took a moment to catch my breath. I placed my hands on the side of the brick building, letting my head hang, taking deep breaths.
"Idiot, idiot, idiot," I cursed myself under my breath. If I had just checked Alexander's texts, or if I had just asked Clay for the lineup of who was playing, then this wouldn't have been an issue, and–
"Tyler?" Clay asked. He'd followed me after all, and was now standing beside me. I met his eyes with a concerned gaze as he looked down at me. "Are you okay?"
I shook my head. "I was. And then ... that song. That ... person."
"What do you mean?"
I sighed. I wasn't making sense because I didn't know how to form coherent sentences when I was freaking out like this. It was just making Clay more confused to add onto his concern. I couldn't believe that this was happening. I'd just decided I was going to confide in Clay, tell him the truth about Alexander so that we could maybe possibly very soon actually be in a relationship, and also because I wanted to prove to Cayden that I was better than he thought me to be, and yet, by some weird coincidence, Alexander was literally here, and–
Holy. Shit.
Cayden.
I stood up fully now, looking at Clay, eybrows furrowed. "Hey, how did you get these tickets?"
He was still confused, and I knew I wasn't helping, but I had to get answers. "Well, Cayden gave them to me last night and said I should take you. But he wanted it to be a surprise."
I sucked in a deep breath and leaned back against the brick exterior of the building. I breathed out heavily. "Fucking hell."
"What's going on?"
I shook my head, eyes closed. "You know how I said I wanted to open up more? Literally a few minutes ago?" Clay nodded. "I was gonna tell you about my ex-boyfriend, Alexander. Alexander Taylor."
"Oh my god, wait. The guy playing on stage?" he asked. "You dated a famous person?"
"He wasn't famous when we dated, it's been a couple of years. We didn't talk much after we broke up, but I ... I've been texting him. For a little over a month. And I wanted to tell you that because I wanted to let you know that I'm only texting him because he meant a lot to me, but there are no unresolved feelings, and I don't like, love him or anything anymore. I don't want to be with him. I just ... Fuck. Now, it's all clicking. Cayden gave you these tickets," I rambled on, then scoffed.
"I–I'm sorry, I'm still confused," Clay said. "You've been texting your ex-boyfriend who's this famous singer, but it's just a friendly thing, and so you ran out of the concert, and now there's something about the fact that Cayden got these for us?"
"We got into a little spat yesterday, me and Cayden did. I don't wanna get super into it, but it's like ... fuck, Clay, it's like he set us up," I said. He set me up. "He was mad at me or whatever because he knew about Alexander and that I'd been texting him, and he accused me of hiding it from you or something on purpose. I don't know. He just ... he just thought that I wasn't giving as much to you as you have been to me, and he didn't want you to get hurt, so he was looking out for you, but it ended up getting really bad, so I ran off. And now, he gave you these tickets to a concert where, conveniently, Alexander is playing."
That must have been when it clicked. Clay's eyebrows shot up and he said, "Ohhh."
"And I know I haven't been giving as much, I'm aware of that. Because you're so open, and I'm just ... constantly having this fight with myself in my mind where it's like, I want to tell you everything you want to know, but I can't possibly bring myself to do it because I'm so damn inhibited. But I decided, fuck what Cayden said, right? So that's why I wanted to come here with you and then open up after the concert, tell you all about Alexander, all that shit, and just now..." I paused and sighed.
"Cayden must have done this to speed up the process. He didn't think you would actually open up," Clay said, and I just nodded, letting him know that he was totally fucking right. "Tyler, I–I'm so sorry."
"Holy shit, no. You don't need to apologize, not for this," I protested, taking his hand in mine. "This is my fault. And Cayden's for not trusting me, but if we talk about that whole issue, I'm probably gonna turn really really angry, and I don't want to get like that around you. I just ... I want to get the chance to be real with you. To straighten things out despite the fact that Cayden didn't think I could."
Clay nodded, squeezed my hand. "Tell me everything you planned on telling me. Forget Cayden," he said. "We can go to my lookout spot?"
I smiled, relief washing over me. "I'd like that a fucking lot."
✿✿✿
Giiirrrrrrllll.... Cayden really did that, didn't he?
So yes, Alexander is back bitches. But like, who even really knows how long he'll be here? Or if he's back for good? Or what kind of drama he may or may not cause?
Only I know these things. Ah, the power of writing.
I'm proud of little Tyler for wanting to tell Clay the truth, however the timing couldn't have been more awkward... So here we are. It is a struggle, folks.
More of the drama and figuring shit out next chapter... It'll be a good time, believe me.
And predictions for Alexander's arrival!!!! LET ME KNOW.