CHAPTER 36 - Okay as in, ‘Oh my God I think I need to change my underwear’ or ‘Oh my God, I would sell my left nut on the black market for ten minutes in a closet with her?

Abby

I’m dead. Yup, as in deceased. Not living. Dead. Dead as a doornail. I mean, I’m really, really dead. Like, six feet under kind of dead. So dead that I can feel the bacteria slowly begin to eat away at my flesh.

Ew.

Okay, so technically I’m not dead yet. I’m actually quite alive and sitting in the middle of the upstairs hallway. But I will be no longer in this world as soon as Zac finds out that I blabbed to Isaac about who I really am… or aren’t. Whatever.

I’m surprised Taylor hadn’t reached through the telephone and strangled me when I told him earlier this morning what I’d done with Isaac. He sounded so freaked out that Isaac would for some reason do something horribly detrimental. I don’t see how telling poor Ike the truth would be this earth shattering, but then again, I’m not really his brother and I don’t know him as well.

I suppose what I did was a little on the stupid side. I’ll give Taylor that. Telling a heavily intoxicated man in a sullied karaoke bar that his brother is in truth a female trapped in his body was probably not the most ideal way of handling the situation. But on the other hand, what if telling Isaac was the best thing that ever happened for us? What if Isaac believed me and somehow thought of a cure that neither Zac, Taylor, nor myself had thought of?

I had to stop doing this to myself. I had to stop thinking as though there was a cure to be found. I had to stop living my life as though Taylor and I were going to change back any time now. Whether I liked it or not, I was Taylor Hanson for the rest of my life and I had to accept the harsh reality.

Being Taylor is terrifying. I never really stopped to think about how scary it is to be him, how much pressure lies on his shoulders. He has his music and his family and his grades…and he’s perfect at balancing all of it. Although, I think he had to have been born with a lot of his brains and talent, or at least the drive to excel at both. For a while I thought poorly of Taylor for wasting his brilliance on music. Though I would never breathe a word of this to him, I wouldn’t be shocked if Taylor Hanson found the cure for cancer. Zac too. They’re seriously too smart for their own goods. (And they both have nice goods…ba dum ching) But now that I’ve watched the tapes of the performances and actually participated in one of the performances, I now understand that music and Taylor have a bond that permeates all others.

Which is going to make quitting the band a very unpleasant thing to do.

Oh, and I’m not looking forward to dumping Brooke either. But I still blame Taylor for that whole thing. He’s the one who selfishly forced me to pretend to date her and naturally I have to rectify all of his idiot mistakes. Yup, next time he gets his period I’m going to laugh really hard in his face.

I heard a loud noise come from Taylor’s bedroom and my heart practically stopped beating. Was Zac awake? Was he in a good mood? Would he kill me when I told him what I’ve done? Taylor’s really too pretty to kill…

Oh my God, it’s Ike. I’m so not prepared for this yet.

Isaac opened the bedroom door, looking quite disheveled. His curly hair was smashed on one side of his head and he looked as though he’d just put dark purple eye shadow under both of his eyes. Even the white wife-beater he was wearing was twisted a bit to one side and his boxers just hung lazily from his thin waist.

My, he’s a beautiful man.

“Morning!” I exclaimed, a little too chipper. It was so painfully obvious that I was behaving unnaturally. I think if I were any worse at hiding things from people I’d be Zoë. Yeah, that’s right, I have the poker face of a two-year-old.

Isaac grunted as he passed by me, the only sign that he was aware of my existence. He shut the door to the bathroom and in those mere seconds he was in there my mind was going a mile a minute.

What was he thinking? Did he remember? I love his curly hair. Was he angry? Upset? Betrayed? He looks cute in his Scooby-Doo underwear… What if he never wanted to talk to me again? What if he thought I was some kind of abomination? His eyes are still pretty even if they have enormous bags underneath them. What if he told his parents? Would they be willing to help us? Would they throw me out of the house? Would the put us all in the nuthouse? I wonder if he likes long, romantic walks on the beach at night…

He reemerged and I gasped dramatically, my hand rushing to my chest. It was as if I’d forgotten he was actually in there or something… He eyed me suspiciously, his adorable curly hair still only an afro on one side. Haha, it was a “half-fro.”

“Would you like to say something?” He asked, an unreadable expression on his face.

Oh my God, he knew. What do I say? Do I apologize? Do I cry? I wonder if he’ll stop changing clothes in front of me now. Stop thinking about stuff like that! Holy crap, what am I supposed to say to him?

I tried to speak, but only a high-pitched squeak came out. Words actually failed me. Me. Abigail Deluca. I was at a complete and total loss for words. This had to be some kind of historic event.

“Taylor, if you needed to piss that badly why the hell didn’t you walk your lazy ass to the downstairs bathroom?” Isaac muttered, shaking his head at me. “I swear to God, I bet if Mom offered you’d let her change you in diapers…” He turned away and slowly shuffled back into his bedroom, leaving me scratching my head.

Note to self: buy Poise pads and stash in closet to freak out Isaac.

Whoa, hang on a second. Isaac called me Taylor. A wave of glorious relief washed over me. He still thought I was Taylor! He either didn’t remember what I’d told him or he must have written it off as a complete practical joke. So…I guess this means that I don’t have to worry about telling Zac about my little boo-boo last night. No harm, no foul, right? Wow, this had to be the first time ever that life has actually made it easier for me to exist. I really must be becoming Taylor Hanson.

***

It was about 7:30 on a Sunday evening, the sun was still shining, and I had finished all of my homework assignments. Therefore, I had no scholastic ties binding me to an evening of burying my nose in a textbook or developing carpel tunnel typing essays. I didn’t have to pretend to be a boyfriend on a double date or a camping trip from hell. I didn’t have to perform in front of zillions of lusty teenage girls. I had nothing to do tonight and I was grateful for it.

I groaned as I flipped through the channels in the den. Nothing good is ever on TV on Sundays. In fact, Sunday has to be the worst TV day of the week. There’s never anything on except lame made for TV movies and random science fiction crap. There’s no way I can sit in front of the boob tube for hours on end with so poor a viewing selection. My spare time was far too rare and precious to waste on mindless television anyway. This certainly would not do.

Isaac entered the den just then with a thick novel in his hand. He took no notice of me, despite the fact that I was looking up at him expectantly, but simply sat down on the recliner and started to flip through the pages.

I stared at him blankly. He may not have been upset with me because of what I’d said to him, but it was painfully evident that he was upset with me. He very rarely didn’t say anything to me whenever he had the chance. Ike, dear, was definitely a talker.

I knew that he was hurt due to the fact that I haven’t been as open with him as Taylor always had been. I knew that he was jealous of Zac and I and our close relationship. He didn’t understand why I needed to be so secretive with Zac. I suppose I could try to rectify some of the damage I’d caused by talking to him a bit about stuff. I don’t know what kind of stuff Ike and Tay usually chewed the fat on but I had to say something. The silence was driving me completely up the wall.

“So, what do you think of Brooke now that you’ve finally gotten to know her?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably on the couch next to him. I had opened the floodgates of conversation now. That in itself was half the battle.

He looked up from his novel and shrugged. “She seemed okay.”

“OKAY?” I’ll admit it, I was shocked. Usually when a guy sees Brooke his tongue manages to flop out of his gaping mouth and begin a puddle of lustful drool. To hear Isaac be so nonchalant about many a boy’s fantasy princess made me quite curious. “Okay as in, ‘Oh my God I think I need to change my underwear’ or ‘Oh my God, I would sell my left nut on the black market for ten minutes in a closet with her?’”

Isaac gave me a chastising look. “See, that’s the difference between you and I, Taylor. You look at her and all you see is an exquisitely beautiful girl who’s absolutely perfect in every way…”

Jealousy tugged at my heart. He thought she was “exquisitely beautiful.” I’ll bet he never thought that I was that attractive. I was so focused on my raging envy that I almost missed the rest of his statement.

“... I look at her and I see a pretty girl who seems no more special than the pretty girl I saw at the drug store yesterday. Or the pretty girl who asked me for an autograph at the mall the other week.” He sat his book down and looked at me in an eerily fatherly manner. “Taylor, the main difference between you and I is that it takes nothing more than long hair and big breasts to get you interested in someone. Personally, I would rather date someone perhaps less attractive that could make me laugh. I’d rather be with someone I could be myself with. Don’t you want something more fulfilling than mere looks alone?”

I think I stared at him for a long time in appreciative silence. I heard words…strange words…all coming from the mouth of a college male. It almost sounded like he was… I don’t know, I’m a little bit fuzzy still… interested in a girl’s personality? Okay, where’s the priest because we need to get married and pronto!

“What are you staring at?” Isaac asked, glaringly.

“God, I love you when you say things like that,” I replied, in a murmured tone. I felt all of the heat rush to my face as oxygen became sparse. Oh, please say that never happened… I couldn’t be that retarded.

Isaac rolled his eyes, his defensive demeanor completely dissolving. “Great. Just keep on making fun of me because I’m not the penis-driven baboon you tend to be sometimes. You know, with an attitude like that I worry that you will simply marry the first pretty face you see! I know you, Taylor, and you always confuse “love” with “like” and…”

“Yeah, well, you know, guys will be guys and all,” I muttered, frantically getting off the couch as fast as possible. The last thing I needed was a discussion about what a raging pervert, man-whore I was and whatnot. I only wish I could put Ike’s speech in a plastic baggy and feed it to the real Taylor later on. I smiled weakly at Isaac before turning away.

“We’ll talk about this later?” I asked, completely determined to do whatever it takes to make sure it never actually happened. I know I was copping out, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

Isaac eyed me knowingly, a smile on his handsome face. “Whatever you say, Tay.” I quickly made my departure.

Onto Plan B.

I found Zac hunched over the cluttered desk in the room we shared. The bedroom door was wide open and I don’t think he heard me walk in. I nosily leaned over him so I could take a look at what he was working so diligently on. Zac suddenly jumped and his pen went flying through the air and nailed me smack dab between the eyes.

“OW!” I whined, rubbing my stinging face.

“Jesus, you scared me!” Zac exclaimed, turning half around to look at me. “That’s what you get for sneaking up on me.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Jerk. And to think I’d come all the way up here just to ask you if you wanted to go somewhere and just hang out.”

“Sorry, can’t,” he replied, turning back towards his desk. “I’m doing some homework.”

I groaned. So much for using Zac as a form of cheap entertainment. “Homework? That sucks. You have a lot due tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No, nothing due tomorrow but I always try to get as much homework done on the weekends as possible so I have more free time during the weekdays.”

I gave him an odd look and put my hands on my hips. “Um, why?”

“Because I hate missing my shows.” The way he said it made it seem as though I should have known his reply before I asked the question. “Everyone knows that TV sucks on the weekends.”

You’re telling me!

“That’s because the people who run the stations and crap assume that people like us would actually have lives to lead during the weekends,” I muttered, a little irritated that I was now forced to find an alternative source of amusement. “Today’s the first time that I’ve actually had “me” time on the weekend and I can’t squander it by watching lame TV all by myself! I have to go out and do something!”

Zac sighed, tiredly. “I have an idea. How about you use your oh-so-valuable “me” time and go out by yourself for a while? Take a break from the Hanson world for a bit?”

“But I’ll get lonely,” I whined, pathetically. I rested my chin on the top of his head. “I’m not used to being alone.” At least not anymore.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Zac continued, smiling gently. “But maybe you can find someone else to keep you company for a bit. Surely in a family of nine you can find someone to feed you attention. Hey, what about Ike? He’d love to go out with…”

“No, he’s in a preachy mood. In the five minutes I sat down with him, he proceeded to tell me what a superficial, lust/penis-driven…”

“…baboon you are. Right.” Zac nodded, knowingly. “Well, again, I’m sorry but I really just want to finish all this shit I have to do. I promise, the next time you have no Taylor responsibilities I’ll go somewhere with you.”

I sighed dramatically. “Great, now I’m going to have to resort to calling Tay and it’s all your fault.”

“I can accept that,” he said, already engrossing himself back into his work. “Have fun.”

I grabbed Taylor’s car keys and hustled down the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Hanson were sitting on the couch together, playing with Mackenzie and Zoë and trying to watch a movie that was on TV. Actually, it appeared as though Zoë and Mack were attacking their parents in some kind of aggressive, child-like manner. Jessica and Avery were clipping out pictures from assorted magazines in order to make a large collage on the floor towards the kitchen. Naturally, they were arguing like mad over what to cut out and where it would go. Slipping past them, I opened the front closet and looked for shoes in a size 12 ½. I made the mistake of putting on a pair of Zac’s 10’s once for school and it was pure agony. I think I had an idea of what those girls in China felt like who got their feet bound so they wouldn’t grow.

“Where are you going, Taylor?” His mother asked calmly. She never even looked up from Zoë, who was trying to tickle her fiercely. You know how some people say that they have eyes in the back of their heads? I think Mrs. Hanson has millions of eyes all over her head. Kind of like a fly. She had to in order to have noticed me.

“Going out with a friend for coffee,” I replied, slipping on a pair of Taylor’s expensive-looking loafers. Well, at least I thought I was. Whether he wanted to or not, Taylor was coming out with me for coffee.

Mr. Hanson eyed me, dodging a playful blow from Mackenzie. “This late on a Sunday evening?”

I shrugged. “I finished all my homework. There’s nothing else to do.”

Mrs. Hanson finally looked up at me. There was an apparent hopefulness in her eyes. This couldn’t be good for me, whatever it was she was about to say. “Well, you could stay home with us if you’d like! We were about to bring out the Scrabble board and play. I’ll even let you and Isaac be on the same team…but there is no way that Zac can be on your team too. I remember that one time when I came in here and saw you, Ike, and Zac playing against poor Avery and Jessica.” She gave me an amused look. “What do you say?”

I would say that Starbucks has never sounded so good.

“Yeah, Tay, play with us!” Jessica exclaimed, excitedly. “You can be on my team!”

“No, he’ll be on my team!” Avery barked.

Jessica glared at her sister. “Fine. He’ll be on our team.”

“Are you in then?” Mr. Hanson asked, grinning at his bickering daughters.

I put on my best face of disappointment. “You know, that sounds like big fun and all but I kind of already made plans and I wouldn’t want to have to cancel on her or anything.” Every face in the room frowned. And I did feel bad about letting everyone down but there was no way that I was going to spend the entire evening with Taylor’s family playing board games. No way in hell. If I really wanted to punish myself I’d lock myself in the bathroom whenever Zac ate Mexican.

“Oh, well, of course,” Mrs. Hanson said, trying to sound less disappointed than she was. “Maybe if you come back early you can jump in.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Maybe not. I opened the front door and suddenly stopped. “Hey, is there a Starbucks nearby?”

The entire family just stared at me before they all burst out laughing. Even Mack and Zoë were laughing. Naturally, they were just laughing because everyone else was but it still stung the pride when babies laughed at you. Clearly I must have said something amusing. Maybe “Starbucks” has a double meaning in this family. You know, kind of like Uranus.

“Okay, thanks,” I mumbled, frowning as I noticed that tears were rolling down Mr. Hanson’s cheeks. I must be one hell of a comedian. I mean, I didn’t even have to tell the mushroom joke! I shut the door behind me and quickly skipped toward Taylor’s Explorer. I needed to get as far away from the nutty, Scrabble-loving family as humanly possible.

***

Taylor and I entered Starbucks about thirty minutes later. I was so lucky that it was only Taylor and I! Forgetting that Brooke was also staying at my house, I’d nearly wet my pants when she opened the front door to let me in. Naturally, I had to invite her to come along but thankfully she had a bunch of homework to do.

I stepped up to the register and was about ready to order when the young girl behind the counter, in an excited voice, exclaimed, “Hi, Taylor! Haven’t seen you in a while! I saw your car and made a fresh pot of coffee. Venti, black, right?”

What the fuck?

Did I know her?

I hate coffee! Don’t make me drink coffee!

Wait a minute. With a metabolism like this I am getting an effing java chip frappachino! Why would I waste it on plain coffee? Why, I ask?

“Actually, I’ll have the venti, black,” Taylor replied, congenially. The girl behind the counter looked at me skeptically and then back at Taylor. “We’re trying to expand our tastes by getting each other’s personal favorite.”

“Oh, okay,” the girl said, her voice a little less cheery. I don’t know if she was depressed that “Taylor” had come with a girl or that she had wasted her kind gesture (fresh pot of coffee) on a Starbucks stranger. “And for you, Taylor?”

It killed me that she knew Taylor’s name. I’ll bet he flirted with her every time he came in here, the man-whore.

“Venti java chip frappachino,” I replied, excitedly. My mouth was watering already.

“Whole milk or skim?” She asked, smiling warmly at me.

“WHOLE!” I exclaimed, causing Taylor to roll his eyes. He didn’t understand what it was like to actually be conscious of what you eat. He’s never had to worry about love handles or thunder thighs or a bubble-butt. Well, he would shortly find out if he ate now how he ate before.

The girl handed us our drinks quickly. I pulled out Taylor’s wallet.

“How much?” I asked, reaching for a five.

“No charge,” the girl said, smiling sweetly. “It’s nice to see you again, Taylor.”

“Thanks!” I beamed, handing Taylor his coffee. I loved getting stuff for free. “That’s awesome!” Now that I think about it, it makes me kind of sad that she gave me the drinks for free thinking that I was Taylor. Naturally, Taylor would get the drinks for free because he could easily afford to freaking buy the place out. If I had been “Abby,” would I have gotten the drinks for free? No! And could I honestly afford to waste six or seven bucks on stupid Starbucks? No. It’s amazing how this society works. But I won’t get started.

I was turned away from the register when Taylor grabbed my t-shirt. I glared at him. What if I would have dropped my frap? Then he’d have to lose a limb.

“Put a twenty in the tip jar,” Taylor whispered.

I looked at him as though he just told me to take off all my clothes and bark like a dog. “What? Why?”

“Because she gave us our drinks for free.”

I swear to God, this boy must suffer from some mild form of retardation.

“But, if we pay three times what we would have owed, how will that make sense?” I asked, putting my free hand on my hip.

“Just do it, okay?”

“Fine.” If Taylor wanted to waste his money, so be it. I took a crisp twenty from his wallet and nearly shed a tear as I dropped it into the tip jar. I could have done a lot with that twenty dollars and now I had pissed it away. It made me feel a bit sick to my stomach.

“Taylor, you don’t have to do that,” the girl exclaimed, seeing the twenty in there. She grabbed it and thrust it towards me. It took all of my willpower not to take it back. Well, that and Taylor’s stern glare. “You’re way too generous.”

“No, keep it,” I muttered, hoarsely. “I want you to have it.” I heard a reluctant thank you as I turned and walked back towards Taylor. “You know, your family laughed at me for some reason. I’d always thought your family was all sickeningly sweet and supportive of one another but you should have heard them! I simply ask them where the nearest Starbucks was and you’d think I had just taught a monkey to tap dance.”

Taylor rolled his eyes at me as we sat down at one of the small, circular tables in Starbucks. “They were laughing at you because I practically live at Starbucks.”

I glared at him. “Well excuse me. You should have put that on your memo you wrote me…along with your abhorrence of bacon.”

He groaned. “Are you still harping on about that?”

“Can you blame me? My first day as you and they looked at me as though I was insane!” I happily sipped my frappachino. I’d never had one before, and it was remarkable. I was going to have to come here more often. “It was quite scarring.”

“I bet,” he muttered, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He smiled as the liquid went down his throat. Was he having a caffeine orgasm or something? Taylor is a sick, sad boy sometimes.

We talked for a bit about stupid things, really. It was one of the things I loved most about Taylor. He could talk to you about his thoughts on the political regime of France during the eighteenth century or he could argue about how Britney Spears would look better in a fluorescent pink bikini than Christina Aguilera. It was impossible for Taylor to bore you, no matter what kind of person you were and what interested you. He was so animated when he spoke, so passionate about everything he said. You couldn’t help but be completely enamored with whatever was coming out of his mouth. At least that’s how I feel.

All of a sudden I saw Taylor stop dead in his tracks. The easy smile that was on his face had quickly dissolved into a look of restricted fear. His body was completely stiff and a small whine escaped his tightly pressed-together lips.

I looked around Starbucks and saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were two girls sitting in one corner, an older Asian man reading the Wall Street Journal, and a couple holding hands to our right. The girl behind the counter was replacing some of the ingredients that were low while there were no customers. There was no armed gunman to be found or alien from outer space coming to take him away to anally probe him. That only leads me to believe that darling Taylor is insane.

“What is your problem?” I hissed, feeling unnerved by his drastic change in behavior.

Sweat was starting to form on his forehead. I might have been worried if I hadn’t thought he was stark raving mad. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What? What is supposed to bother me?” I questioned, looking around once more. Yup, Hitler had not been reincarnated here in Starbucks. “The only thing that is bothering me right now is you and your creepy demeanor.”

Taylor leaned in close, his voice hardly above a whisper. “They’re staring at you.”

“Who?” I asked. “Who is star-”

“It’s like you’re an insect. They stare at you like you’re two inches tall. Like you’re a damn freak for living or something. And what is there to stare at anyway? You’re just sitting there like a normal person drinking coffee. Normal people do drink coffee…”

“Taylor,” I said, gently. “No one is looking at you.”

“No, they’re looking at you.”

“WHO?”

“Them.” He shakily pointed to the two girls in the corner, who instantly turned their attention away from us. I could hear their stifled giggles from across Starbucks. Taylor visibly shivered. “Doesn’t it make you feel… scrutinized?”

I sighed, looking at him kindly. “I can’t believe you’re not over being looked at by now. I’m going to say this as kindly as possible, okay? GET THE FUCK OVER IT.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. I could tell he was starting to anger. “Oh, because you’ve played one small concert, if you can call it that, you know what it’s like to be me? To be stared at constantly? To be gossiped about and ripped apart by critics and peers? Oh yeah, you really know what it’s like to be me now!”

I rolled my eyes. “Taylor, look at me. I’m a very pretty man. People like to look at me because of that. That’s why everyone looked at you! Not because they thought you were weird or that you were some freak of nature. No, only I look at you like that.” He gave me the finger. It only made me smile. “What I’m trying to say is that no matter what you do with your life, people are going to be attracted to you. You draw attention to yourself without meaning to because there’s something about you that makes people want to know about you. People will love you for it and people will hate you out of jealousy for it. You just have to learn not to give a damn.”

“You think you know everything,” he muttered, staring at his coffee intently.

Think? Dear boy, I know.

That was the last straw. Taylor needed a wakeup call out of his delusional fantasy prison where everyone was out to get him. Something drastic needed to have been done long before this. If I was destined to be the poor bastard who had to show Taylor the light of day, so be it.

I made eye contact with the two girls sitting in the corner and smiled brightly. They looked as though they’d won the Oklahoma state lottery. I heard Taylor gasp in horror as I asked them to come sit with us. Taylor kicked my shin hard from under the table and I threw my balled up straw wrapper in his face. I rubbed my throbbing shin angrily. It was definitely going to leave a bruise.

“What are you doing?!?” He whispered, cowering slightly as the two girls hurried over to our table.

“You a big favor. Now shut the hell up.” I grinned dazzlingly as they sat down shyly. They both grinned back way harder than necessary and completely ignored the fact that Taylor even existed. “Hey, guys. I’m Taylor and this is Abby.” Taylor waved weakly. He looked as though he was about to keel over any second. I was determined to break him of this ridiculous phobia if it was the last thing I did.

“Oh my God, you’re Taylor Hanson!” The taller girl shrieked, beside herself with joy. I found her incredibly annoying but I reminded myself that this was for Taylor’s own good. “Oh my God, I knew it! I’m Lisa Addams. It is so awesome to meet you!” She extended her hand and nearly squeezed my hand off when I shook it.

“I’m Pam Matthews!” The other girl exclaimed, as energetically as her friend. She turned to Taylor suddenly. “Are you his girlfriend or something? I thought he was dating a blonde girl.” Pam turned her attention back to me. “I saw pictures of you on the Net with a blonde. Is she your girlfriend?”

Wow, I hope Taylor never plans to cheat on any of his girlfriends/wives because his fans were ready, willing, and able to sell him out. Damn.

“No, this is just my friend,” I replied, trying not to unleash the dirty look that was desperately trying to come out. “They both are.” Hey, everybody lies sometimes. Besides, I think these girls might decapitate me if I said I was dating Brooke. And was I really dating her? Technically speaking, Taylor was dating his brother. Wow, I never stopped to think about how entirely fucked up our situation is. “But I must confess, I did call you guys over here for a reason.” Taylor looked like he was about to hurl.

The girls looked at each other and squealed like pigs.

“I know you were staring at me.”

They stopped squealing.

Lisa cleared her throat. “Well, we, ugh, well, um…”

I smiled. “I just wanted to know why you were staring. I get stared at quite a lot and I was just wondering why people found me so fascinating to gawk at. I just want to make sure I’m not walking around with a booger in my nose or toilet paper stuck to my shoe.” Taylor simply shook his head. “What? I want to know. Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

Pam looked at me as though I was the very face of stupidity. “Because you’re Taylor Hanson.”

“Because you’re amazing!” Lisa exclaimed, enthusiastically. Taylor actually smiled. “Oh my God, why wouldn’t people stare at you? Not only are you famous but you’re, like, really hot.”

I nodded and turned to Taylor. “See, I told you.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. “TAYLOR! Girls, he didn’t mean that the way it sounded! He’s really quite humble…”

Right, and I’m Taylor Hanson.

“This is kind of embarrassing,” I continued, looking as forlorn and scared as possible. “But sometimes I get self-conscious when I see people stare at me. I get insecure, you know? You guys wouldn’t have any kind of advice to help me get over that do you?”

Taylor was glaring at me now. I just thought it was funny to watch the girls’ reactions. They looked as though I was their deepest concern and that helping me would enable them to earn a sainthood or something. It was as if they would rip out their own beating hearts and hand them to me if I asked them to. Having people you don’t even know absolutely adore you is probably the weirdest thing in the world to comprehend unless you’ve experienced it.

“Why would you of all people get self-conscious?” Pam blurted out.

I shrugged and sipped my frappachino. “Just shy, I guess.”

“Well, don’t be,” Pam said, firmly. I shot Taylor my best “I-told-you-so” look. “There is no reason whatsoever for you to feel bad when people look at you. I think you should take it as a compliment. People could look at anything, yet they choose to look at you. That has to be a huge compliment.”

“Really?” Taylor asked, looking doubtful. “You really think so? I think it’s sort of weird.”

“Oh, definitely!” Pam replied, quickly. “I’m sure it can be really strange sometimes but it’s just something he has to get used to.” She smiled warmly at me. “Once you get used to it, you won’t even notice anymore.”

“You know what I think?” Lisa began, twirling her straw in her nearly finished drink. “I think there are two kinds of people in this world. The people who look and the people who get looked at. The majority of the people look because they aren’t particularly special or at least they don’t feel special. They spend their whole lives looking at those special few, just trying to be like them. Taylor, you’re one of the lucky few who have that indisputable “it” factor that just draws people to you. Embrace it. Revel in it. Don’t feel ashamed or insecure just because you naturally have what other people spend their entire lives trying to get.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case.

Taylor looked so appreciative right then. He looked as though he was an inch away from reaching across the table and kissing that poor girl. I wanted to remind him that she probably would rather not receive any gratitude of that variety from him but I held my tongue. Thankfully he managed to contain himself.

We actually spent two more hours sitting in Starbucks, shooting the breeze with the two girls. They finally managed to calm down from “being next to Taylor Hanson” and behaved like normal human beings. We discussed everything from the totalitarian regime of school establishments to the pointlessness of pocket lint, and I managed to swiftly dodge a sneaky “When’s the next album coming out?” question.

Sly dogs.

Taylor was having a great time in spite of himself.

I think that hearing everything I’d been trying to tell him from the mouths of complete strangers was just the medicine he needed. Not that I expected him to be 100% cured, but at least it was a step in the right direction. You know, I could say the damn things they said over and over until I was blue in the face and Taylor would still continue to ignore me. But if someone else said it, it was suddenly something of substance. I hate men.

Taylor laughed at something Lisa said and it made me smile to myself. I loved to listen to him laugh. I used to laugh all the time when I was still in my rightful body but it just sounded so much lighter when he did it. Of course, he did everything better than me but he especially laughed better. When he laughed hard his mouth got so big, just to get all the sound out. I suppose he laughs like he sings.

When Taylor shut the door of the Explorer, I was in the middle of putting on my seatbelt. I yelped and let go of my seatbelt as I was suddenly attacked by two overly long arms. Taylor hugged me tightly and rested his head on my shoulder. It was really nice to be touched like this. I don’t get a lot of physical contact.

He smelled like strawberries.

“You can be so awesome,” he murmured, still nuzzled against my neck.

It made me shiver. “Yeah, you too.”

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. Sometimes I need someone to kick my ass.”

I smiled as I rested my head on top of his. I could have stayed this way forever. “You’re incredibly welcome. I’ll gladly kick your ass any day.”