Page 21 of Survivor
Chapter Fifteen
Frank
It was the thing Frank feared most about even considering a deeper, more personal relationship with Taylor: the age difference. Picking them up at the airport, the smile on Taylor’s face, asking if they could talk alone, that cheesy “it’s a date” comeback; everything strengthened Frank’s resolve to be open and honest with Taylor about his feelings. Even if he wasn’t quite certain what those feelings were yet, not completely. This could all be just some instinctive, sexual attraction, though definitely a mutual one. So he agreed and looked forward to it, if he were honest. He and Taylor had been through too much over the past ten years to simply walk out of one another’s lives entirely. It was the not knowing—thinking Taylor wanted something more than mere friendship and knowing were two different variables.
And then Billy Scranton showed up and dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over Frank’s head, sending him soaring back to reality. The cute blond that spent summers at the cottage next door with his grandparents had been Taylor’s first crush, first kiss, and if Frank were right, he’d also been the first guy Taylor had sex with. They had so much more in common than Taylor and Frank, and they were both twenty-three. How could he compete with Billy-fucking-Scranton? So he muttered something about helping Val and made his escape before he made a fool of himself.
Valerie turned her head when he walked in, smiling around a mouth full of blueberries, waving with the spatula in her hand. He pointed at the fridge, jerking the door open with more force than necessary, grabbing a beer then kicking the door shut. The lid was off and half the bottle drained before he felt the tension begin to ebb away. After savoring the rest, Frank walked over to drop the bottle into the recycling bin, taking a glance out the window. He chuckled when he watched Billy reach for Taylor’s hand, Taylor quickly pulling his hand back to run his fingers through his thick, dark, wavy hair.
All right, Moore, obviously that situation is a one-way street. Taylor is not interested. Go take a shower and get a hold of yourself, idiot.Frank’s inner voice seemed to be the one of reason; he should probably listen. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up before dinner,” he told Valerie, taking the stairs two at a time so he could shower, change, and get back down for dinner as soon as possible.
The steam calmed his nerves and opened his airways completely. A bit of Dallas smog was still lining his nostrils even two days after arriving. Inhaling deeply, all he smelled was the ocean—Lord, how he loved that scent. The peace and quiet was another perk of having a cottage in Martha’s Vineyard. Teeth and hair brushed, deodorant on, no time to shave, and all that was left was to get dressed. Throwing on a long-sleeved blue Henley and a pair of cargo shorts, Frank headed back downstairs to help finish up dinner.
Seeing Taylor bobbing and weaving, ducking away from his mom as she came at him with a wooden spoon in her hand and a gleam in her eyes was quite possibly, the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen. It eased a lot of the tension he was feeling as well.
When Charles and his dad came in the back door a minute or so later, he still had his arms wrapped around Taylor’s waist, holding him in place. But Taylor had managed to get his arms free and snatch the utensil from his mom, holding it high up in the air where she couldn’t possibly reach it while Valerie climbed into the chair closest to them and was on her tiptoes trying to get to the instrument she would wield to beat-eth her child with. The three of them were laughing so hard they began to wheeze, tears streaming down Frank’s and Valerie’s faces. Taylor broke free of his hold and bolted around the island to the other side of the kitchen where he jumped up and down, whooped, and hollered, “Who’s the king of the kitchen now?”
Charles shook his head, laughing softly as he walked over to the chair his wife still stood on and held a hand out to help her down. They all slid into their usual routines seamlessly once Val’s feet were back on the ground and Taylor had hidden the wooden spoon in the freezer. Hubert brought over plates, napkins, and utensils and Frank helped him set the table. Taylor got beers for him, Frank and Charles, wine for Val, and a glass of tea for Hubert. They all laughed it off when Valerie slid a piece of salmon onto each plate, the edges crisp and black. Accidentally or not, the salmon tasted amazing and Frank kicked himself for not buying more. He did add it to the list on the fridge for the next trip into town.
Taylor’s mom hadn’t even finished her plate and she was already yawning, so Frank offered to clean and sent the Stones upstairs to get ready for bed. A glance at his watch told Frank it was already nine. “Damn, where did the day go?” he asked no one in particular.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Taylor was right behind him, so close that Frank could feel the heat from his body. Leaning into him, Taylor added his plate and fork to the sink of dishes, his chest brushing against Frank’s back as he moved. When he spoke again, Frank decided it was the cold water he was rinsing the glasses with that made him shiver, not Taylor’s breath caressing his earlobe as spoke, barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna go upstairs and change. Why don’t you grab a couple of chairs and a blanket and I’ll meet you where the water hits the sand?”
With shaking hands, Frank managed to get the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher and tossed a soap packet in before hitting start and shutting the door. The butterflies in his stomach were back but his mind was clear. He was ready for this. Regardless of the outcome, Frank would put it all out there and see where the pieces fell. Walking away was no longer an option. He truly wanted to be with Taylor and was confident the feelings were mutual. Walking over to the small closet underneath the back stairs, he pulled the door open and bent to retrieve two of the collapsible beach chairs that sat low to the ground and three blankets, just to be safe. That way he’d have one to spread out for the chairs to sit on, and one for each of them, if needed. The night air was often chilly, even more so if you were at the water’s edge.
The path from the house to the beach was bathed in soft light from the moon and stars and Frank was happy not to have the sun heating up the sand as he made his way to the beach barefoot. It took less than a minute to spread a blanket out and pop both chairs open. Before he sat, Frank looked up to the house and saw Taylor’s silhouette in the window of the room he’d spent summers sleeping in for the past decade. The curtain moved to the side and Frank had to squint to see Taylor wave before the fabric fell back and within seconds, the room went dark. Eyes darting left, Frank saw a couple of lights still on in the Scranton house and frowned.
“If you fuck with my night, Billy Scranton, I’ll handcuff you to the grill of Caleb’s monster truck,” Frank swore.
Taking a seat while he waited, Frank stared out across the water. From his view, he could see the lanterns that lined the jetty closest to them bouncing off the waves, shimmering just beneath the surface of the water, the effect entrancing. The backdrop of the portrait before him was the lighthouse across the way with the moon off to one side, twin globes of light fighting for dominance in the night sky. Frank thought back to the night he came out of the water naked, Taylor likely standing right where he sat, watching him. Had he wanted Frank back then? How long had this infatuation been blooming in Taylor’s heart? No, not infatuation. That was an emotion that could easily be confusing and outgrown. Burn bright but fizzle out just as quickly. He hoped Taylor’s feelings for him went way beyond sentiment that could be tossed aside.
Had Taylor not worn flip-flops, he likely could have snuck up on Frank and caught him completely off guard. But he heard the softthunk,thunkof the shoes growing louder as Taylor got closer. A beer appeared over his shoulder and Frank took it, smiling up at Taylor and—Oh my fucking God!The moon framed Taylor’s features with just enough light to make his caramel-colored skin glow as if it were painted bronze. His crazy hair lifted, doing a slow dance to the song of the soft breeze and his eyes blazed with want and intent. Frank swallowed hard, blinking a couple of times, his eyes still following Taylor as he picked up his chair and moved it right beside Frank’s, the arms of each chair touching, they were so close.
Frank gasped when Taylor reached over and cupped his cheek, running his thumb over Frank’s bottom lip. “Do you even realize how much I want you, Frank?”
