𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XXI

It was easy.

With others, there's always been a sort of hesitation in my throat. An uncertainty in what I was doing- was I making the right decision? Would I regret this in the morning? Usually the answer was yes. I'd slip out of whoever's bed the next morning plagued with numbing regret. Being with somebody in an intimate way was emotionally and physically draining for me. I never realized that, of course, until after it was over, and I had moved on to the next distraction.

Not with Roger.

In the beginning, there was. But now, nothing about our relationship was normal to me. Nothing felt normal. It was all new territory, a whole new level of emotions and feelings I'd never experienced. I didn't feel drained or tired. I was buzzing, I was alive. It was so easy to kiss him, to touch him, to talk to him. It was easy to love him. Horribly, horribly easy.

The night following our first kiss, I dreamt in vivid colors. My mind replayed it for me, over and over, each touch of our lips new and humming with fresh feeling. Then, when we lied down together, he disappeared. One second I was holding his gentle face in my hands, and the next he was disintegrating into the air.

I woke that morning with a jolt, but immediately flooded with relief when I found my arms still wrapped around his torso. I had slept well, despite the nightmares, with my face between his bare shoulder blades. The sweet smell of his skin hovered in my nose.

Pale sunshine leaked through the drawn curtains- it could be anywhere from six in the morning to noon. I had no plans, though. If it was up to me I'd stay in bed all day, holding Roger against me. Just the feel of him breathing in and out was calming.

He began to stir after a half hour had passed, turning onto his other side so that our foreheads nearly touched. I smiled stupidly, unable to hide the elation that filled me.

"Hi."

For the past day, we'd spent all of our time simply in each other's company, not feeling the need to occupy ourselves or even leave our flat. I was content being with him- I could never get bored. But I knew we couldn't stay inside forever- tonight was another show, another unpredictable night.

I brushed a hand over his blonde hair, smoothing it away from his face. "What are we going to tell the others?"

Roger's nose wrinkled at the thought. "I don't know. Nothing?"

"I like that idea."

Lazily, the two of us rolled out of bed, untangling ourselves from each other with reluctance. I dressed in front of him, his eyes boring into me as I pulled on a short jean skirt, pairing it with a tucked in long sleeve blouse.

"I like that skirt on you," he complimented, giving me a nod. "I like you without it, too."

"You've got a way with words, love," I said with sarcasm, the term of endearment rushing out past my tongue without consideration. He smirked at that, satisfied.

It was only when we were in Roger's car, on the way to the venue where they were to play, that we actually discussed what we were going to do about our situation. I'd traded my outfit for a dress of shimmery gold and eyeshadow to match, and done Roger's makeup too as per his request. He drove with his hand on my knee, the radio gurgling in the background.

"But really though," I said when there was a lull in our conversation, "What are we gonna tell them?"

His eyebrows lifted in thought. "Maybe now's not the right time," he said, trailing off. "It's new. It has to be only ours, just for a little while. Makes it special."

I half smiled, patting the hand that was on my knee. His logic didn't exactly make sense to me, but whether or not the boys knew wasn't a concern of mine. "If that's what you want. But they're gonna catch on, you know."