16. Taylor

CHAPTER 16

TAYLOR

The best thing about his job was that even on the busiest days, Taylor knew what he was doing. Grilling and frying he could do with almost no thought. It was all muscle memory at this point. Which left plenty of time for his mind to wander.

Nash showing up had been a surprise, but a good one. It felt illicit to make a date with Nash and a thrill shot through Taylor when he thought of that. He'd been on a date with Damon, and now he'd be heading over to Nash's later for dinner and a movie. And who knew what else.

Taylor found himself humming, shimmying his hips side to side as he worked. It earned him the side-eye from his dad once or twice, but he never asked Taylor why the good mood. Which he was thankful for. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell anyone, it was that he didn't want to tell anyone yet. Right now, it still felt like there was nothing to tell.

Maybe Taylor was getting ahead of himself. There might never be anything to tell. He hadn't even had his first official date with Nash. It all might go up in smoke, or go nowhere at all. But Taylor didn't get that feeling. His gut instinct told him that this was a good thing. That they wanted him as much as he wanted them.

Taylor spied the clock. Josie would start their shift in half an hour and then Taylor could be out of there. He'd need to shower and check on his plants before heading over to Nash's. But first he needed to tidy the kitchen. Taylor hated leaving a mess for the next person. Years ago, a guy named Big Joe worked the kitchen, and he made great food but he was a disaster to work after. In his mind, his job was to cook, not to clean. He'd never wash up any of the dishes or take the trash out. He just breezed in and out like a one-man wrecking crew.

Taylor's shift ended during the lull between lunch and dinner. He made polite small talk with Josie while he did a load or two of dishes. He gave the floor a quick sweep before taking his apron off and tossing it in the laundry.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he grabbed the bag of trash and headed out the back door. All he could think about was getting home and ready for his date, and that's probably why he almost missed the movement near the dumpster. It was located behind the diner along the back of the building. Taylor was used to seeing the odd cat or dog rummaging around looking for an easy meal, but the movement was larger than a dog.

Someone had been in the dumpster, Taylor realized when he saw the set of legs stop dangling in midair and hit the ground. Sneakers scraped on the pavement as they tried to bolt.

"Wait," Taylor called out. "It's okay. Wait, please. Are you hungry?"

With their back to him, they stopped. Their shoulders were high and tight and they looked like a spooked animal, all wound up and ready to flee. They didn't move as Taylor slowly made his way forward. "It's okay if you don't want to come in the front, but if you wait here, I can go inside and grab you something real quick."

The shoulders dropped a little.

"I'm Taylor. What's your name?" he asked, inching closer.

The person turned their head, looking over their shoulder at him before turning the rest of the way around. A familiar face looked back at him. Taylor couldn't quite come up with the name, but he was sure he'd gone to school with him. Taylor had been younger than him by a couple of grades, but he remembered everyone speculating what happened when he didn't show up for graduation. By the following September, everything was forgotten. A new year meant whatever happened was old news.

"Taylor?"

"Yeah." Taylor shuffled closer, then lifted the bag of trash and eased it into the dumpster. "Taylor Bennett. My dad owns this place."

"I remember."

"Got a name?"

"Mickey."

Mickey Sharp, that was right. Track athlete. Golden boy. Smart as a whip, too. Just missed valedictorian. What had happened to him? And why was he eating out of their dumpster?

"You hungry? I can get you something."

Mickey shook his head.

Taylor put his hands in his pockets. "Look, I know you're hungry. It won't take long to get you something."

Mickey shuffled his foot, like he was moving something he didn't want Taylor to see. A sleeping bag. Was Mickey sleeping out here?

"You got a place to stay the night? It's supposed to get cold."

"I should go. I didn't?—"

"Wait, okay. Just…I don't live far from here. How about you come up to my place and I'll feed you where no one is going to see you, okay? I'll shower while you do that, and then I have a date, and I'll be gone a long time. With any luck, maybe all night. So if you wanted to just stay in somewhere warm tonight, I wouldn't mind."

Mickey furrowed his brow. His hair was long and dark and stringy from his rough existence. His face had a layer of stubble on it at least a few days thick.

"Come on," Taylor coaxed him. "I'm just over there. The little piece of shit Honda."

"You sure are trusting. What if I come over and rob you?"

Taylor laughed. "If you come with me, you'll see why I'm not worried about that."

Mickey looked torn. Like he wanted to, but couldn't make himself.

"You'd be doing me a favor. Now that I've seen you out here, if you don't come and at least get warm and fed, I'll spend all night thinking about it instead of thinking about my smoking hot boyfriends."

"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.

"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.