Chapter 8 #3
To the point of Rocco wondering, even if we’re not actually dating, would you still take me ice skating, to give you the excuse to hold on to me and not let go?
“That might possibly be occurring,” Rocco said, trying to keep a straight face.
But Taylor smiled. “Good.”
They made two more rounds of the rink, and then Rocco tugged his arm. “Hot chocolate,” he insisted, and Taylor led him off the rink, stopping to untie and return their skates before heading towards the refreshment stand.
And who else should they spot there but Steve Mills and Mrs. Gucci Boots?
“Oh, look at how cute you two are,” she cooed as they approached the line to grab cocoa. “You actually went ice skating!”
“That is what people do at a rink,” Rocco said dryly.
“Right, and oh, he’s funny too,” Mrs. Gucci Boots said with an annoyingly high-pitched giggle.
“It’s why I like him,” Taylor said, putting an arm around Rocco’s waist and firmly tugging him closer. “One of many reasons. You ever tried his marzipan latte?”
“What’s that?” she asked.
Steve turned away from the tourist he’d no doubt been attempting to charm and said, “Oh, honey, that’s some weird foreign thing. You wouldn’t want that.”
Rocco stiffened. Wondered if they also thought of him as ‘some weird foreign thing’ even though his family had been citizens for four generations.
“There’s plenty of that here,” Taylor said firmly, quietly. “So better get used to it.”
“Not when I grew up here, there wasn’t.” Steve’s tone was still friendly, but casual, but Rocco knew neither he nor Taylor were particularly happy.
Rocco wasn’t particularly familiar with this town yet, he’d only been here a few months, but he had a feeling Steve didn’t really remember what Christmas Falls had been like, because for a town that celebrated nostalgia, it also embraced so many different kinds of people and traditions.
And that didn’t seem like a particularly new thing.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Taylor finally said politely.
“Steve,” Mrs. Gucci Boots whined, “I see Heath over there. Let’s go over and chat.”
He gave his wife an indulgent smile, sent a frostier one in Taylor and Rocco’s direction, and thank God, they were gone.
“That freaking guy,” Taylor muttered after he’d grabbed them two paper cups of hot chocolate. Rocco took one and sipped, not even minding the weak flavor because he was too preoccupied with how upset Taylor was.
“He’s shitty, for sure,” Rocco agreed. “But punching him in the face isn’t going to get you the job you want, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately,” Taylor grumbled. He glanced over at Rocco. “It’s getting late. I know you get up early . . .”
“We can head back,” Rocco said, hiding his disappointment that the evening had ended on such a low note. He took another long drink of his hot chocolate as they headed out of Sugar Plum Park.
Taylor didn’t say anything as they walked down Candy Cane Lane.
Stewing, Rocco assumed, in silence. He needed to do something to drag Taylor out of this angst. Because angsting about it wasn’t going to change anything, and what he was doing, getting out into the town and showing them who Taylor Hall really was, was actually giving him the best chance to get the job.
A stray snowflake dropped down to his cheek, and Rocco brushed it away. But it gave him the idea. On the next block, he tossed his empty paper cup into the trash and then leaned down, gathering a handful of snow in his gloved hand and before he could think better of it, tossed it right at Taylor.
It glanced off his shoulder, spraying snow into his face, and his jaw dropped.
“What? Are you serious?” Taylor gasped.
Rocco laughed, the sound startled out of him by the shock on Taylor’s face.
Taylor couldn’t believe Rocco had just thrown a snowball at him and then laughed about it. But then, maybe he could. Because the look on his face was all playful heat.
Hot enough to melt whatever snow Taylor might toss his way.
Leaning down, he grabbed a handful of the softest snow and a second later, Rocco was still laughing but spluttering too as he wiped his face off.
“Oh, baby, it’s on now,” he called out and Taylor wasn’t stupid.
He ran, ducking back into the coverage of some of the trees on the edge of the park, Rocco right on his heels, pelting snowballs at his back.
He chanced looking back and got a mouthful of snow that he hoped was at least clean-ish.
Scooped up some more and hopefully gave back as good as he got.
But right after he did, Rocco shocked another breathless laugh right out of him by tackling him right to the ground, their landing softened by a snow drift.
Rocco was strong, but Taylor wasn’t a slouch, and he turned them, flipping Rocco, and then letting Rocco wrestle himself back on top.
Taylor froze as Rocco leaned down, laughter spilling out of his mouth and mischief glowing in his eyes. He’d lost his hat somewhere, and his curls were messed up.
You could mess them up even further.
God, he wanted to.
Pulling together all his strength, he turned them again, and before he could think—or overthink—he tucked Rocco into the snowbank and kissed him.
The desire to do it was a fire in his blood, but doing it once, their lips finally meeting, didn’t do anything to extinguish the need.
Instead, it flared hot and sweet between them, Rocco groaning as he pushed up into the kiss, his hands on Taylor’s back, trying to pull him in closer.
He’d imagined it might be good. After all, they were young and attracted, and it had been awhile for both of them—a long while for Taylor, though he was under no delusions that Rocco’s dry spell equaled his own.
Not when Rocco looked like he did.
He’d have a long list of men panting after him, and Taylor was just one in that line, but then, who was kissing him now? Kissing him so good that Rocco was making these hot, little desperate noises in the back of his throat.
But the kiss was so much better than anything his weak imagination could conjure up.
Taylor’s fingers delved into his hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing Rocco’s, and he swore he heard his brain functions ticking off one after one.
Before this moment, he’d wanted exactly this, but he’d known it wasn’t a very good idea. But now it only seemed like the best goddamned idea he’d ever had.
Rocco rolled them back, and the rest of the blood in Taylor’s brain evacuated, heading down south, as he lay that perfect, compact, surprisingly strong body on top of his own. Sure, there were what felt like dozens of layers between them—coats and sweaters and jeans—but Taylor felt flayed naked.
Naked.
Oh yeah. That was what he wanted. To be naked and to gaze up, worshipping Rocco’s no doubt gorgeously naked form above him.
He didn’t thrust his hard cock against Rocco’s ass, but it was a near thing.
He wanted . . .he wanted so goddamn badly, but it wasn’t just the pulse of insistent desire that pulled him out of his fog and off Rocco’s mouth, but the way the ice around his heart was undeniably melting.
Taylor wrenched his mouth off Rocco’s, and a second later, Rocco slid off him and shot him a look that said a thousand things.
Why did you do that?
Did you know it would feel like that?
How are we not going to do that again?
Do you want to do that again?
It occurred to Taylor, then, that not only had he kissed him when he’d said he wouldn’t, when they’d discussed not complicating their faux relationship this way, despite their attraction, that he’d not once been tempted to say goat cheese.
Shit.
“What the heck was that?” Rocco asked.
That underlying frustration in his voice might exist because Taylor had kissed him even though they’d established they wouldn’t. Or it might be because he’d stopped and he wanted to keep going.
Yes. That. Lean over. Kiss him again. Let it carry you both away.
But Taylor pulled himself together.
“What was that?” he retorted, tossing a little bit of snow in Rocco’s direction.
“I was just trying to pull you out of your head,” Rocco said.
He heard what Rocco wasn’t saying. I wasn’t the one who kissed you.
“I . . .I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Taylor lifted himself to his feet and held out a hand to help Rocco up.
Rocco shot it a vaguely suspicious look, but took it eventually, brushing off his jeans when he stood.
And yeah, the snow hadn’t affected Rocco’s situation below the belt either.
Taylor didn’t know whether he should be flattered or horrified.
“You should have stopped me,” he said, because apparently his brain-to-mouth filter was dead, gone, buried, truly burnt to a crisp by the heat in Rocco’s lips.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Rocco muttered.
“I should have stopped myself,” Taylor said, apologetically.
“That was just you getting carried away by the . . .uh . . .holiday spirit then,” Rocco said, and Taylor could acknowledge that the careful edge in Rocco’s tone was both deserved and also absolutely terrible.
He’d done this. Taken way more than he’d ever intended to, and possibly ruined this good thing between them.
“Uh, sure,” Taylor said. “That sounds reasonable.”
He didn’t want to tell Rocco about Michael.
He’d already told him about his mom, yes, but Michael was different.
Michael was humiliating, a cautionary tale that anyone with even a brain cell of common sense would have seen coming a mile away.
Rocco never would’ve gotten ensnared and then dropped by Michael.
He’d have seen right through him. Unlike Taylor, who’d really believed that, with him, things would be different.
Spoiler alert: not only had they not been different, they’d actually been worse. Taylor’s mom hadn’t wanted to leave him—she’d wanted to live, fiercely, not just for her own future, but for Taylor’s.
Michael hadn’t given a shit about Taylor or his future.
He wasn’t ever going to be hurt like that again. Not even if he was sure Rocco wouldn’t treat him the same.
“It’s alright,” Rocco said. “I get it. We did get carried away. It was probably inevitable, and honestly, it’s fine.”
But Taylor wasn’t sure it was fine. Maybe he should say something about Michael. Not the whole embarrassing story, but enough of it that Rocco understood.
“I . . .I’m not in a place to have a relationship right now. A . . .uh . . .real relationship,” he clarified. “At least for now, I have to put my career first. This town first. I didn’t always, and I almost fucked it all up. I can’t do that again. Can’t take that risk.”
He heard what he was really saying and was desperately hoping that Rocco didn’t hear it, too.
I’m afraid.
Rocco’s gaze narrowed. “But you can fake it for your career, huh?”
Taylor didn’t want to bring up that this whole ridiculous scheme had been Rocco’s idea.
Rocco had ensnared both of them in it. Yes, Taylor had agreed, but .
. .well. He could have stopped it at any time.
He could have touched Rocco less. Could have distanced himself when he felt they were growing too close.
Definitely not kissed him just because he wanted to so goddamn bad he didn’t think he could resist one second longer.
“Yeah,” Taylor said quietly. “And that’s kind of shitty, isn’t it? For both of us.”
Rocco sighed and gave Taylor a soft smile.
“Yeah. Maybe. It hasn’t been easy for me either.
Sometimes I think maybe we should just call it off, but then I see how it’s working.
How Marlene came in twice this week. How I have a guy writing a book in my coffee shop, like I’m helping him do that, even a little bit, and that’s amazing.
And that Steve guy? A complete asshole. You can’t let him get that job, Taylor. You just can’t.”
“I know,” Taylor said. He also knew if he was around Rocco, he’d want to kiss him again. That much was a guarantee.
And there was a part of him, tiny and buried, a hard kernel of desperation that hoped Rocco felt the same way.
“Maybe we should just . . .I don’t know . . .take a little bit of space. Not see each other for a few days. Get some perspective.” Rocco didn’t quite look him in the eye when he said it, but that was okay. This was hard. Taylor was certainly struggling with it.
Hard enough he’d been sure Rocco would say, no, it’s all over, and Taylor had been so sure he’d agree. But he hadn’t, and Taylor discovered he didn’t have the fortitude to force the issue.
It was working.
It’s more than that, an annoying voice in his head reminded him. You don’t want to give him up.
But he would.
He’d have to, eventually.
Someday, they’d have to shift things back into a friends-only zone. In public and in private.
“Yeah,” Taylor agreed. “We could do that. We . . .uh . . .pretty much convinced everyone we were dating, so I don’t see why we can’t take a few days off.”
“Yeah,” Rocco said wryly, “we were real convincing.”
Taylor could only laugh then. “I guess we were.”
“Full points for authenticity. Ten out of ten. No notes.” Rocco was smiling again, and he looked him right in the eye when he said it. Taylor let out the breath he’d been holding.
“And neither of us even thought goat cheese.”
“Hey, I could have.”
But they both knew he hadn’t. Taylor shouldn’t make him admit it, but there was a part of him, deep down and buried, that wanted to hear the truth.
That Rocco hadn’t been tempted to say it either.
“Did you, really?”
Rocco sighed and smacked Taylor in the arm. “Damn you, no. I would say we could just hook up and call it good, but I know how that would turn out.”
He didn’t need to say it would be only a slippery slope to more, because Taylor already knew it was true.
Someday, you’re gonna want it more than you’re afraid.
Someday.
“Well, at least we’re on equal footing,” Taylor said.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Rocco wondered.
Taylor didn’t know. But it didn’t make him feel better, either.