𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XXV

June, 1973

I wasn't looking for love.

In fact, it was the one thing I was hoping to avoid. Throughout those many months, I'd used my strength to shy at every touch, shut down every compliment, continuously reminding myself I'd get hurt. And still, I had no doubt I'd get hurt. That was pretty much a given. Of course we'd hurt each other eventually... what are young adult relationships for? Especially with womanizing, angel-eyed drummers who could- and would- sleep with any woman they wanted.

Yet, I'd been so focused on shielding myself from potential pain that I hadn't thought of how the good could outweigh the bad. And once we'd fully crossed that line between friendship and romance, I realized what I'd been missing, and kicked myself for it.

Because being with him was worth it, I truly believed. The happiness I felt simply being close to him was worth the gut tearing, mind numbing pain I know I'd eventually feel.

"You're gonna hurt me," I'd once said to him, while I was lying on his bare chest, drumming my fingers against the tight skin of his stomach. "But I don't care."

Roger had looked at me quizzically. "Why do you say that?" he asked, but he knew.

I brought my fingers up to trace the sharp curve of his jaw, admiring the beauty while I still could. "Things won't be perfect forever," I said quietly, flashing a strained smile.

The blonde grinned, pulling me tighter to him. "You think things are perfect?"

He'd missed the point entirely, but I didn't care. As suddenly as the sadness came upon me, it was gone as I began to study his long eyelashes. That was another thing I wanted to avoid: being so stupidly in love that even looking at them made me forget my own name. But unfortunately, I'd crashed right into it.

I hadn't told him yet, about how I felt. There was a lingering fear that burrowed itself in the back of my skull, a fear that he didn't feel the same. I didn't worry about it too much, though. I was happy in the place we were in.

"Where the hell is he? Did he get lost on the way back?" Freddie said to us now, lazily taking drags of a cigarette that was nearly a stub.

Summer had finally broken out, which meant our crew had piled into the band's van to take a roadtrip to the beach. We were currently parked on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, the hot sun beating down on us through the glass windows. Roger had been whining for the entire ride down that he needed to pee, and finally like the mother he was, Brian pulled over to let him out. Now it had been five whole minutes we'd waited for him, and impatience was settling in.

"Go find him, Thea."

"Forget it." My eyes darted across the woods where Roger had hopped off to, and I frowned. "Five more minutes, then I'll be worried."

Luckily, only three had passed when the blonde came darting through the trees, now covered in a new layer of shine. A collective exclamation danced across the van as he finally took his seat, and Brian stomped on the gas.

"You had to take a shit, too, while you were at it?"

"Piss off."

When we finally reached our destination, the sun was practically blistering down upon us. It was easily one of the hottest days we'd had this year, and the heat that settled in the van wasn't helping. The broad sea that stood before us looked too tempting, as we rode into the closest parking space.

The five of us leapt from the vehicle, already tearing off clothing that stood in the way of us and the water. We set up a small spot half in the shade, laying down blankets and bottles of sunscreen, our toes burning on the hot sand. Roger held a hand out to me.