Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

14. Roger

I'm completely disoriented when I awaken. The sun hasn't yet risen, and it takes me a moment to remember which day it is and which city I'm in. Once I realize where I am, my next pressing question is, who in the hell is next to me in my bed?

To my utter surprise, I'm wrapped around a soft, warm body. The woman's back is pressed firmly against my chest, and my arm is wrapped protectively around her torso. Our legs are intertwined, and, perhaps, the strangest thing is that we're both fully clothed.

None of this makes sense. I don't bring women back to my flat, and I sure as hell don't spoon them.

Without moving my arm, I slowly lift my head and peer down at the sleeping form next to me. All I can see is long dark hair, which rules out me bringing home the bird from the pub. So if it's not her...?

The woman next to me murmurs something unintelligible and turns so that she's facing me, tucking a hand under her cheek. Lifting my head once again, I pray that there's enough pre-dawn light trickling through the window for me to properly see her face.

My breath hitches as I gaze down at Skylar.

What. The. Fuck?

Furrowing my brow, I lay back on the pillow and command my jet-lagged, confused brain to do its fucking job and remember how we got here.Ever so slowly, my brain cooperates and it all comes back to me.

How Skylar showed up unexpectedly at the pub.

How I tried to convince myself that I was over her, which lasted all of five minutes.

How she actually said yes when I suggested leaving together.

How we just lay here chatting for several hours, the first time in months when I was truly able to relax.

And now, here we are, cuddled up like 14-year-olds.

I try to tamp down the flicker of panic deep in my gut. The bed suddenly feels claustrophobic, and my heart is beating too quickly in my chest. I'm both delighted and terrified that Skylar is here next to me. I've put so much effort into chasing her and didn't actually think much would ever come of it. Was it possible that taking things further could actually live up to my or her expectations? Or would it prove to be another passing fancy, and I'd be the arsehole in the end?

I have to get out of here.

I need a smoke.

And why the fuck is my bedroom suddenly a thousand degrees?

As if she can sense my distress--or, perhaps she can hear my heart hammering in my chest--Skylar extends her hand to press gently against my clavicle.

"You okay?" Her voice is raspy, her eyes still closed. I feel like such an asshole, wanting to escape our little cocoon. But it just feels so fucking intimate, and I just don't do intimate.

"Roger?" Skylar's eyelids flutter open, and she looks at me with sleepy, concerned eyes. She must see on my face that I'm freaking out because she scoots up so that we're at the same eye level. "Hey, it's okay."

Reaching over, she wraps her arms around me. Almost immediately, I feel more grounded. Her long fingers run through my hair soothingly. We don't say anything for a few minutes, and I feel the panic begin to subside.

I can do this.

Skylar pulls away and looks at me, brushing a hand over my cheek before tucking it back under the pillow. She doesn't ask what was wrong, and I know that she won't.

"Okay?" she asks softly. I hesitate for a few seconds, feeling silly about this all.

"Yeah," I reply with a nod.