Chapter 11
SEBASTIAN
I spent the cab ride to the airport on hold with the airline, then waited for what felt like an eternity in line at a different airline to speak with a ticketing agent.
By the time I held an honest-to-god printed ticket for the same flight Taylor was on, our departure was less than thirty minutes away, and we still had to go through security.
Of course, the TSA Pre-Check line was closed, and the grooming kit in my carry-on bag set off the x-ray machine’s sensors.
Once my stuff had been thoroughly searched and re-scanned, Taylor and I raced through the terminal, dodging travelers who’d stopped randomly in the middle of the walkway, finally making it to the gate as the final boarding call was being issued.
Boarding the plane, I was slick with sweat and fantasizing about a nice hot shower.
Which yanked me straight back to this morning.
I slammed the door shut on that memory fast. The last thing I needed right now was to get hard sitting between him and some stranger in the very last row of economy.
Instead, I forced myself to focus on the next logistical nightmares of my hastily scheduled trip: finding a hotel room in Kennebunkport during peak tourist season.
I scrolled through the limited available options, trying to decide how many nights to book.
The meeting with Hector was on Thursday, but Taylor had seemed excited about showing me around.
Perhaps I could stay through the weekend—assuming he even wanted that.
We hadn’t really discussed it since I first sprang the idea on him.
Hadn’t had time to in all the chaos of just getting on a plane together.
The plane hit a patch of turbulence, and Taylor’s hands clamped down on the armrests, his knuckles white against the plastic, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Hey,” I whispered, slotting my iPad into the seat pocket in front of me.
Without thinking, I reached out, tugging his bottom lip free with my thumb. The second my skin made contact with his, the world narrowed to that single point of connection and the soft give of flesh.
I felt the catch of his breath as I dragged my thumb away.
His eyes went wide, and he stared at me like he couldn’t believe I’d just done that.
Frankly, neither could I. We were on a plane, surrounded by strangers, and I’d touched him like we were alone. Like I could keep going.
Before either of us could acknowledge it, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom with an announcement about seeking a higher cruising altitude.
Taylor’s shoulders sagged with relief.
“It’s okay,” I said under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the turbulence or what I’d just done.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a rough laugh. “I fucking hate flying.”
“Really?”
My knee banged against the seat back in front of me as I turned to face him fully. The man sitting there muttered something about idiot dipshits, while the little old lady next to me harrumphed and jabbed me in the back with her elbow. I shot her a glare over my shoulder, and she snorted.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Taylor, who was choking back a laugh. And God, I’d take being the butt of the joke if it meant he wasn’t pale with fear anymore.
“Since I was a kid,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “You’d think all the team flights would’ve cured me by now, but nope.”
“How did I not know that?”
I used to know everything about him—or, at least, I thought I did. His favorite songs, the way he took his coffee, and how he got quiet when he was overwhelmed. And I’d missed something this fundamental? What else had I never noticed?
Taylor shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It looked like a pretty big deal. You were white as a sheet.” I avoided mentioning the fact that he’d also had his teeth clamped around his lip. I didn’t want to remind either of us of that moment.
Last night and this morning, I’d been free to touch Taylor however and whenever I wanted. But the moment we stepped onto the elevator, I had to rein myself in—something I’d never had trouble with before. But with him, I struggled to remember how to behave. I wanted my hands on him constantly.
He waved away my concern. “I’m fine, Seb. Really. Just a big baby about flying.”
Taylor wasn’t Wyatt—not even close—but his obvious brush-off landed the same way it did from the other man, and I hated how fast my mood soured. “If you say so,” I responded, reaching for my iPad.
Taylor nudged me with his arm. “Hey,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you down. I just … I guess I’m not used to people worrying about me.”
“But I’m not just ‘people,’ Taylor.”
I hated the petulance in my voice, but couldn’t seem to help it. I was all over the place—wanting too much, feeling too much. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t know how to be this vulnerable and stay composed.
“No, you’re not,” he said, dropping his eyes down to stare at his hands and picking at the rough skin around his fingernail beds.
“Let’s not do this here.”
I didn’t want to have what should be a private conversation in a very public space.
“You’re right,” he sighed, glancing down at my screen, which currently showed “No Availability” in red text next to every hotel within a ten-mile radius of Kennebunkport.
“Would you want to stay with me?” he asked, his voice uncertain. “I’ve got plenty of space.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
“Impose?” His voice went up an octave. “Sebastian, you’re not some random guy I met in Vegas. You’re… well … not that.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Besides, it’s not like The Money Pit is small. I have like four guest rooms.”
Guest rooms.
“So I’d get my own room?” I asked, needing clarification.
Was this his way of setting boundaries before I even arrived? Telling me we could hang out and fuck, but he wasn’t going to let me in? I needed to know what I was walking into here.
Taylor’s eyes widened slightly as if only just now realizing what he'd implied, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “I mean, you could have your own room if that's what you wanted. But I was kind of hoping you'd want to sleep in mine.”
My pissy attitude evaporated in an instant. “I didn’t want to presume.”
“Presume away. Mi casa es su casa, and all that.”
“Be careful, or you might not be able to get rid of me,” I joked.
Taylor chuckled, and when he chewed his lip this time, it wasn’t with fright. His gaze stayed locked with mine, his eyes dark and full of longing.
I felt my cheeks flush, and my pulse spike as I stared back at him, imagining what it would be like to drop all the pretenses and just … be with him, in the open.
How had inviting him up to my room last night for a quick fuck turn into something else entirely?
“You okay?” Taylor asked, and I realized I’d been staring at him without speaking for several long seconds.
“Yeah,” I said, though it was far from the truth.
Taylor’s eyebrow arched slightly, but he didn’t press. Instead, he settled back in his seat, letting his shoulder rest against mine in the cramped space.
I shook my head, marveling at the fact that I was on a plane I hadn’t planned to be on, flying to stay with someone I hadn’t seen in a decade until yesterday.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something this spontaneous. Probably because I never had.
Heading to Maine wasn’t some grand, romantic gesture—I had work to do after all— but it felt romantic. Because as much as I was looking forward to Taylor fucking me in every room in that big, old house of his, what I was really looking forward to was spending quality time with him.
I wanted to visit his favorite restaurant, drive along his favorite streets, check out his favorite coffee shop, and watch his favorite TV shows while snuggled up together on his couch, like we used to.
I wanted to know all of his favorite things. I wanted to learn who he’d become during the years we’d been apart.
But first, logistics—the mundane details that would turn this fantasy into reality.
"According to the map, Kennebunkport is about an hour from your place. Should I rent a car or …?”
I only had a vague sense of his life, and given the way he'd described his financial situation, I didn't want to assume he'd have something I could borrow.
He smirked. “You know those poor financial decisions I mentioned?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, a lot of them are parked in my barn.”
I blinked, processing this information, and Taylor laughed at my confusion.
“When I told you I had a barn, you were picturing cows and chickens or some shit, weren’t you?”
I scratched the side of my jaw, feeling sheepish over my assumptions. “Maybe.”
He shook his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can barely keep a plant alive, and you think I’m going to try my hand at Old MacDonald? Nope. That barn is full to the brim with all the cars I wanted growing up.”
His words sparked a memory of the time he’d dragged me to a classic car show, pointing out his dream car, a Corvette convertible from the fifties.
“Did you ever get your Corvette?”
“Fuck yeah, I did. Arctic blue, cream-colored soft-top. She’s got a dual-carb 283 under the hood, and every time I fire her up, I swear I’m eighteen again, dreaming about the open road.” His grin widened, boyish and unguarded. “She’s a real beauty.”
That grin. Damn.
I wanted to memorize the exact angle of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the animation in his voice. I needed to know everything that made him this happy—every passion, every dream, and every small thing that brought him joy.
This was the Taylor I’d lost. The one who leaned in close and shared his excitement without holding anything back. The one with the same damn grin he’d flashed me the day we met.
Shit.
I was in epically deep trouble.
“Will you take me for a ride in it? Err, her?”
“I'll take you to Ogunquit.” He leaned close, his mouth near my ear. “Huge queer mecca. We could hold hands, and no one would give a damn.”