Isaac
Chucking the car keys on Shae's counter, he went off to her bedroom, where she'd said she was.
She was sitting on the floor, by her closet, with Sydney sleeping on the bed, and Sam in her lap. She didn't look happy, but she grinned at Ike.
"Hey, Shae," he greeted, bending over and kissing her up-turned cheek.
"Hey," she replied, distractedly.
"What are you up to, and why'd you phone?"
"Packing. The end of the month isn't far away." She sounded surprisingly cheerful.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, sitting on her bed.
"Tracey's a good friend," she told him, dumping a pile of junk into a box, "I'm going to live with her for awhile."
"How does Tracey manage?" Isaac asked. He vaguely remembered Shae mentioning Tracey was in roughly the same boat as she was.
"Ah, she has a night job that gets her by. She's also working at a daycare during the day. Her daughter, Noel, is two. Tracey actually hid her pregnancy until she had to go the hospital, which was during her graduation ceremony."
"Her parents didn't know for nine months?" Isaac found this hard to believe.
Shae nodded, "Tracey's small. She's only 4'10". Wore baggy clothes. She had, I mean, has the coolest boyfriend," Shae paused, before quickly adding, "But not as cool as you. I mean, he's been helping. He's at college now, but they are going to get married when he's done. Ike, could you take this?" During her speech, she had stood up, and was now balancing a box that was almost as big as she was.
Isaac took the box she extended, "Should I put it by the door?"
"Yeah," she replied, over her shoulder. Wiping a strand of hair out of her eyes, she turned determinedly back to the closet.
"Slowly, he made his way back to the door, and set the unsurprisingly heavy box down. She had a cozy place here. He sighed, and went back to Shae's room.
She had her back to him, and was reading something intently, when he found her. He cleared his throat, and she jumped.
"What you got there?" Isaac pryed.
"Nothing," she muttered, slowly, and without looking up.
Sighing, he picked up another box. Moving Shae wasn't going to be any fun.
Taylor
He turned the small box around in his pocket nervously. This was a BAD idea. Bad, bad, bad. He was going to go home. He'd just phone Cheyenne later with some crappy excuse. That was a good plan. A very, very good plan.
"Tay!" Somebody's hand touched his arm, and he must have leaped right out of his skin in shock.
Once he caught his breath, he glanced at the smiling Cheyenne and gulped. He played with the box again and took a huge in take of air.
"Hey." He let his breath out in one big blow, and sat down by Cheyenne.
The food court was pretty full with pre-Christmas shoppers. Great. Lots and lots of witnesses. He gulped again and slouched in his seat. Why couldn't the world just swallow him whole? He'd really appreciate that.
"Okay," Cheyenne began, folding her hands, "I got a phone call at seven am, ordering me to get up, and meet you at the mall for lunch at noon. So, I get ready five hours in advance. Explanation, please."
Taylor cleared his throat and stalled. His hands felt all clammy to him. Furiously, he wiped them on his jeans. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be.
"Er," he began, slowly, "I just wanted to make sure that you didn't have other plans?" He cocked his eyebrow and waited for approval, cursing himself for ending it in a question. He could tell from the flattered smirk on her face that it was a pass.
He cleared his throat again, and went about getting the two of them lunch. He was so nervous, that he could barely eat, something unheard of from someone who loved food as much as he.
"Something wrong?" Cheyenne asked, upon noticing that Taylor's lunch was nearly untouched, and her's was 3/4 of the way gone.
"No!" he exclaimed, forcing the food past the anxious lump in his throat.
She nodded, and continued eating, but left her eyebrow at such an alarming angle, that it was clear that she didn't believe him on that one. Shrugging, she leaned over and took a sip of her pop. On the way up from the straw, her eyes met Taylor's. Calm, brown eyes met and held nervous blue ones. It was time. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the box.
"Cheyenne, I-"
"Well, if it isn't Taylor and Cheyenne," a cold voice mocked.
Taylor looked up in distaste, and saw the girl who could have been a perfect temptress, if she had a warmer personality.
"Britt," he acknowledged, taking in the tight shirt, mini skirt, knee socks, and platform shoes in one disgusted glare.
She smiled, displaying her perfect teeth, "Out with your little harlot, I see."
"Harlot? Took Taylor's advice and got a dictionary, I see," Cheyenne replied, cooly. Her comeback was so quick, that it shocked Taylor.
"Screw off, Britt," he added.
"Ooooh, I'm sorry," she cooed, playing with her hair, "Am I imterrupting a date?"
"Hardly a date," they replied in unison. Because of you. Hmmmm... he liked that thought.
"Oh, Taysie, don't toy with me. I know you two were getting pretty damn close when you and me were together-"
"I believe cheating on someone was your department," Taylor stuck in.
Britt continued without batting an eyelash, "And I know you're a couple now."
"We're not," Cheyenne simply stated.
"But I wish we were," Taylor blurted out before he realized what he was saying. He felt himself color. Nervously, he glanced at Cheyenne.
The funny expression on Cheyenne's face made him feel odd inside. She definately was shocked, there was no way out of that. The corner of her lip was twitching, and she opened her mouth and shut it quickly. He gazed into her eyes for a moment before standing up and grabbing her hand, which he found incredibly cold.
"Britt," Taylor concluded, standing his full height, which was only an inch or two taller than Britt, "Since you're too idiotic, or dense, or whatever to tell when you are NOT wanted, we'll be going."
Without a second thought, he pulled Cheyenne and led her all the way down the mall before stopping.
"Cheyenne," he started, fiddling with a button on his shirt.
"Taylor," she replied, pulling his hand away from the aggravating button and holding it in hers.
"I, uh, I like you." Oh, great start. "So, I thought I would get you something." He pulled one hand free, and produced the box.
Glancing at him, Cheyenne took the case, and popped it open.
"Taylor, I... thank you," she gasped, taking the ring out.
It wasn't real gold, sure, but it was a darn good imitation. There were two "gold" hearts linked together, and he'd gotten Cheyenne and Taylor engraved on the inside. He had taken so much crap from his brothers about being a mushy romantic, that it wasn't even funny.
"It's a promise ring," he explained, taking it from her, "It promises that you are mine, and I am yours. At least, that's what the lady at the store said," he blushed, "You know, tells the world you're my girlfriend," he paused again, "I mean, if you wanna."
"Well, yeah," she replied, just as awkwardly.
Clumsily, he placed it on her finger.
"It's pretty, thank you."
"Sorry Britt had to ruin this."
"She didn't."
"And harlot?" he snickered, slipping his arm around his new girlfriend (man, he could get used to that), and led her to the exit, "I mean, what in the hell's a harlot?"
Cheyenne laughed, "I'll tell ya later, Taylor."
Zac
"I...This...UGH!!!!" Zac threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, accidentally let go of his drumstick, and almost took Taylor out.
Taylor and Isaac had forced Zac to come work on a song with them. Force him, would they? Well, he'd show 'em! It was a crappy song anyway. The melody didn't work. The vocals sucked.
"If you don't have any clever suggestions," Isaac threatened, when Zac voiced his pesimistic opinion, "Just suck it up and play."
"That's what I've been doing for the last hour and a half," he hissed.
"What's wrong with the vocals?" Taylor asked, in a tone that was far past frustrated.
"They have no punch. They aren't catchy. Need I go on?"
Taylor cast his eyes heavenward, while Isaac proposed to take it from the top.
They made it roughly a minute in, before Zac's drumstick dropped, Tay struck a wrong chord, and Isaac sang a note flat.
"We're taking a break!" Zac announced, standing up, "Listen to the song, I strongly suggest that. Maybe you'll notice something not good about it." With that, Zac left the room in a huff. He stomped all the way to his room, and flopped on his bed, face down. He heard footsteps follow him, recognized them as Taylor's, and scowled.
"Go away, Taylor," he mumbled into his pillow.
"NO!" was the forceful reply, "You listen!!"
"You can't make me."
"You're being an asshole."
"What?!?!?" Zac flew right up, and glared unforgivingly at Taylor.
"Not like you didn't hear me. Ike and I spent hours on that song. I'll admit that it didn't work the greatest, but you didn't help. Constructive critism, Zac, or please, none at all. You could have helped. We sacrifice too, not just you. I, for one, would have loved to see Cheyenne. It's not just you, Zac. Don't you think Ike would have liked to see Shae? We gave that up today. Okay? Think about it. It's not just you. But you don't have to make it hell for the rest of us."
Zac looked at Taylor, his best friend, his closest brother, and let one lonely tear work its way down his cheek.
"Sorry," he whispered, turning away from Taylor, hunching his back, and looking all out like a kicked dog.
"Zac....I..." Taylor, who was beyond feeling awful, muttered, "You're not an asshole. I didn't mean that. But, I meant everything else. I just didn't word it very well."
Zac heaved a sigh. The words hurt more coming from Taylor than they would from anybody else. Another tear followed the other one that had already dripped off his chin, and he didn't bother to wipe it.
Taylor
One. Two. Three. Shoot. The ball hit the backboard, and bounced back to Taylor. Solemnly, he dribbled it, and shot again. It hit the rim.
He felt awful about Zac. He hardly ever lost it like that. He'd rambled about constructive critism, but when it had been his turn, he'd only shouted, implied the wrong thing, and name called.
"Practise what you preach, loser," he muttered, hurling the ball. It missed the basket all together, and bounced behind the house. Muttering exclamations under his breath, he went to get it. Before he could, even dribbling caught his ear.
He spun around, and saw a grinning Zac. One. Two. Three. Shoot. The ball went in the hoop. Taylor was so suprised, that his mouth probably opened so wide that it was likely dragging on the pavement, just like the cartoons.
"Shoot it in, dumbo," Zac replied, passing the ball to Taylor.
Catching it, he knew he'd been forgiven. He smiled gratefully at Zac, and felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
"Betcha can't beat me!" he challenged.
E-mail me pretty please. I'm begging ya! Did you like it? Hate it? Please, please tell me!