What This Could Be | A Joe Jonas Fanfic | Book One

Chapter 7: Are You Done?

*Taylor's POV*

"Wait," I pulled away quickly, "I don't do this whole... hooking up thing. It has to mean something."

It was hard to tell what he was thinking. His hand stayed put, but his face presented the opposite, full of indecisiveness and confusion.

"Okay," he eventually responded, pulling his hand away and stood up, helping me up afterwards, "We should head back. It's starting to get dark, and I still need to set up the back of the truck."

"Set up? For what?" 

He was full of surprises.

We started to walk the opposite way towards where we left all our belongings.

He put his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, yet distant, "I brought some blankets and pillows to make the trunk comfy. We don't really get the chance to see how beautiful the constellations are in the city. Here, there's nothing here but us and the sky."

"I've never stargazed before," I admitted, hoping this would give me a chance to get to know him on a more personal level. After all, what was more intimate than a truck bed stargazing setup?

"You won't be able to say that for very long," he responded, his tone different than earlier. I didn't know him that well, but it wasn't hard to tell he wasn't himself.

I gave him some space, both mentally and physically, while we made a comfortable setup with the abundance of thick blankets and pillows he had brought. We barely said a word to each other, except for the one time he threw one of the pillows at me playfully, trying to lighten the mood. Meanwhile, my brain kept on replaying what went wrong. Did he not feel the same sparks I did? Was it because I stopped the kiss? Did I say the wrong thing—Oh.

"You know our kiss meant something to me, right?" I abruptly asked, putting the last pillow in place before laying down next to him, the both of us watching the sun start to set.

He shook his head, "No. I thought that's why you pulled away, because it didn't. Especially right before making that comment."

"I really could've worded that better," I said, partially to myself. Sitting up, I took his hand in mine, "What I meant was, I don't kiss on the first date. Ever. And when you kissed me... I don't know, I freaked out. Not because I didn't feel something, but because I did. But if you didn't feel the same, that this is just going to be a weekend thing and we won't ever speak to each other again, I can't do that."

His eyes fixated on mine, "Are you done?"

Unsatisfied with his response, I furrowed my eyebrows together, "Yes, I'm finished. Your turn."

With one swift move, he sat up and pressed his lips against mine as he put his hand behind my neck, his thumb by my ear. This time, I didn't pull away, our lips moving in perfect unison. I ran my fingers through his curls, gently pulling it in the heat of the moment, before caressing the back of his neck to push him closer to my body.

It slowed down naturally, him giving me small, gentle pecks before his forehead rested against mine, "Does that answer your doubts?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Now, I have a really important question," the heat of his breath hit my lips.

"Hm?" I tried to gather myself, all the while craving more of him.

"You hungry?" his question caught me off-guard, but it was a reminder just how much we neglected our bodies of food during this day.

I nodded my head grinning, "Very much now that I think about it."

He chuckled, "Hopefully I packed something you like, otherwise we'll have to drive at least forty minutes to the next pit stop to find some place open this late."

"I'm not picky," I told him, watching him bring out a small cooler. I swear, not only was this man remembering all the small details of me, but he also knew how to compact a lot in such small places. I was starting to convince myself that this was all a really vivid dream, and any second I'd be waking up in my small, dingy apartment alone and depressed.

"So, I have to ask," he took off some cling wrap on a plastic bowl that preserved a seasonal fruit salad, "Are you always up that early? Like your body being stuck in that time schedule even on off-days of work?"

"No," I answered as he presented a plate of neatly cut wraps between us, "I don't really have a set schedule. I'm what one would call a starving artist."

"No way, that's awesome!" he exclaimed, and not in the way that seemed over-exaggerated or forced, "What kind of artist?"

"Not the kind you're familiar with," I commented, "More like acrylics, watercolors, oils, graphite... Really anything that can go on a canvas."

"Why do you think I'm not familiar with that?" he took a bite out of the wrap he had chosen for himself.

"I guess I just assumed your world of artists involve music," I admitted, "Not ones that make their own art studios in their guest room. I'm pretty sure my apartment is covered in dried up paint no matter how many times I clean up, and..." I stopped myself, "Sorry. I don't want to bore you."

"You're not boring me at all," he assured me, "I actually go to art museums all the time. I'd easily live in one if I could. Every piece makes you think, but if you look at that same piece again, you somehow make a new meaning."

"Right? Maybe that can be our second date," I suggested, taking a bite out of my own wrap.

"Second date?" his eyes widened as he smiled wide, "Already planning ahead now, are we?"

I shrugged while giving him a smirk to speak for itself. I never took him as one that would spend his time in art museums, appreciating a different art than what he creates.

"Have you always wanted to make music?" I asked.

"No and yes," He finished off the last bit of his wrap before continuing, "I was a shy kid, until I saw the amount of attention my brother was getting while he was pursuing music and broadway. Not gonna lie, I was a bit jealous, but it also gave me that courage to put myself out there. I really wanted to be a comedian, specifically to be on All That, so imagine my parents' shock to see their shy, quiet boy suddenly wake up to not being able to shut the fuck up and try to get any chance he had to make everyone laugh constantly. I always loved music though. I grew up in a house where we were encouraged to sing and perform, so it was always in me."

"So with the help of jealousy, you were basically born to perform," I responded with a bit of a smirk on my lips.

"I guess you could put it that way, yeah," he chuckled, "So what made you want to move to New York?"

"Um," I looked down, starting to pick at a string of loose fabric off the edge of one of the blankets, "It was—"

I was interrupted by Joe's phone ringing. 

He took it out of his pocket and, without a beat, stood up with urgency, "I'm so sorry. I need to take this really quick."

I watched him jump out of the back of the truck as he answered the call. I used this time to pack the food back in the cooler while I waited for his return. I took a glance at Joe a good distance away. He had been on the phone for around thirty minutes or so. I laid down with a thin blanket covering me up to the middle of my chest, the sky now dark.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Beautiful. I promise." I heard Joe's voice as he walked back close to the truck, "I love and miss you so much."

Beautiful? There's no way I was being played right now, but then again, I was on a date with a musician. I knew they didn't get the best reputation, but I wanted him to be different. Maybe Liv was right that I should've played FBI before saying yes to this road trip.