𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XXIII

Two hands fell at my waist, giving my middle an affectionate squeeze. I whirled around, coming face to face with a grinning blonde, nose wrinkling under his smile. Roger pulled me against him, pressing our lips together for a sweet second. "Hi."

"You scared me," I said a bit breathlessly, smoothing my hand over his mane of blonde waves. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't visit my girlfriend at work?"

My heart let out a clumsy beat at the word girlfriend, and Roger noticed the change in my face. He grinned again. "I can call you that, right? Girlfriend? Isn't that what we are now?"

I shrugged half heartedly, looping my arms around his neck. I didn't quite know how to reply, so instead I kissed him again, making it a bit deeper than the last. His hand found the small of my back, pulling my hips against his. I had the sudden urge to throw my leg around his waist, but this wasn't the time or the place. I broke the kiss, our noses brushing together.

"Not here," I mumbled, choking out a flustered laugh. "I'll see you at home, alright?"

Roger left me with a soft as butter kiss against my temple, brushing my side as he parted from me. "I'll be there." I watched him leave, my heart still hammering terribly.

A tremor rolled through my body, and I shook it off, continuing my task at work.

I don't know what changed.

Every time I saw him, and we'd been apart for a small amount of time, it felt to me like it'd been forever. I'd see him across the room, not even looking a certain way, just like himself. Simple t-shirt, light jeans, hair messy and golden in his face. My whole body would light up when he was in view, coming alive like a million tiny lights. I'd close the distance between us in quick strides, finally wrapping my arms around his middle and feeling his warmth against me. He'd envelope me against him, looking down at me with a grin I couldn't even describe properly.

The first time this happened, it was a strange feeling that I got, and it swallowed me whole. It was right after one of their shows. I saw him across the venue, exiting the stage, covered in a light layer of sweat and hyper from adrenaline. My stomach did a full somersault, and I caught his eyes, aching to hold him. I began to walk towards him, but he was so far away, so I started to run. Soon enough, we were both running towards each other like complete idiots. Roger circled his arms around my waist when we finally met, lifting me off my feet and doing a small twirl with me in the air. I let out a laugh, still clutching him when he finally let me down. For a couple seconds, we merely smiled at each other, and then he was kissing me with hot lips, once, then twice.

For a brief moment, I felt those three words hovering on the edge of my tongue. I love you. I stopped myself before they could slip out- pushing them far down my throat, swallowing until they were hidden deep inside my stomach. He wasn't ready to hear them. If anything, he'd shy away if he did. The great thing, whatever it was, that was going on between us had to be kept afloat.

Now, I briefly shook my head, trying but failing to wipe the goofy look off my face. With distracted hands, I continued shelving new books, enjoying the walls of privacy the shelves provided.

However, my moment of giddiness was interrupted by the steel face of my co-worker. He popped his head around the corner, eyebrows creased above the bridge of his nose. Since New Years Eve, Stephen and I's relationship had obviously withered. He never asked why I'd ditched him that night, and I was too humiliated to provide any sort of explanation. I was surprised I still had the job, considering how I'd treated him.

"If he keeps coming around here, I might have to ban him," Stephen said, laughing dryly at his own joke. I offered a small smile, shrugging.

I figured he must've heard on the street about Roger and I, because he brought it up once a few weeks ago with a raise of his brows. "You and Roger, now, eh?" he had said, trying to act nonchalant. I had merely nodded, trying not to feel that pang of guilt as he averted his eyes. Our brief "dating" had mutually ended, if not on a sour note.