The Only Living Boy in New York

EIGHT

Van

I pushed the rest of my food around with my fork, feeling too full to take another bite. Maybe it was guilt that kept me from finishing.

Across the table, Taylor cleaned her plate and was trying to figure out if she wanted dessert. I'd done what she asked and arrived at Vines On First for lunch, although I did arrive late. I admitted my fault and she never asked why I didn't show up until 1:45, and we had a laid back lunch and a no pressure conversation. But I couldn't help but let last night's antics catch up with me. The guilt of it all would be my undoing.

I landed on Ivy's doorstep thirty minutes after I said goodbye to Taylor. She buzzed me in quickly and attacked me the moment I made it to her door. Her roommate was home considering it was after midnight, so we moved to her bedroom and I let her use me, and I enjoyed every moment of it. There was little to no communication between us, just movement as I ran my hands over her chest, trailing her stomach with my lips and burying myself inside of her quickly, getting her off quicker than normal so I could get off, too.

The night was a blur. I overstayed my welcome, still declining to spend the night with her even after a few glasses of wine and a second round before I left. I'd made it home a little before 4:30 and slept until eleven. By the time I'd gotten up and around, I remembered my plans with Taylor and sprinted to the shower, already late by that point.

But I'd arrived nonetheless, and she was there, waiting on me at a table toward the front window, sipping on a water without a smidge of judgment on her face. I wondered what she would have thought if she'd known the truth. I was late because I was wound for sound after a night like last's and I couldn't come down from it. I needed to go somewhere else, and lose myself in the company of someone else, just to forget about the thoughts in my mind.

And the thoughts were clear. I was missing my old life, missing the band and the relationship I had with people I no longer talk to. I wanted all the old voids of myself filled up and sealed off, and Ivy fell into that category. She knew me from before. I met her at the height of my career and she'd been through the motions with all of us when it came to the past. She was a small blip in my story with them, and the only part of that story I still had any control over. The only part of my old life I could still be a part of.

I didn't want to tell Taylor any of it. She'd hate me if she knew the truth. Or at least, she wouldn't want to hang out with me if she knew I was spending all my free time with a girl. Taylor and I were too new of friends to confess things like this to. She would have considered me just another washed up rockstar, using his status to get laid.  And maybe that's all I was.

She eventually settled on a fruit tart and I pushed back my plate and rubbed my temples.

"What are your plans the rest of the day?" She asked haphazardly, as if she didn't want to push me too far.

I shrugged, remembering the lines I jotted down yesterday when I was with her. I never did anything with them and I wondered if the feelings would come back to me. "Not really much of anything. You?"

She tapped her hands against the tabletop in the form of a beat and I felt myself sit up a little straighter.

Looks like you're up for a show but I won't tell.

The words were there instantly, matching the beat of her palms and I froze. She must have seen the look on my face as I struggled to breathe. I didn't want to lose them. Didn't want to lose the line that fit perfectly in the space left from last night's rhyme.

"What's wrong?"

I glanced at her bag. "Do you have a pen?"

She nodded and reached her hand in her purse, pulling out a blue pen and clicking it before handing it to me. I reached for a spare napkin and jotted the words down quickly, sighing with relief when they were out. I leaned back in my chair and sat the pen down.