Dave

Bob and Dad were discussing a supposed photo-shoot that was to take place tomorrow afternoon, on the beach. Bob, ever the advocate for The Moffatts Aren't Just Scott Association, was deeply rooted in his case for his right to wear a shirt. Actually, we'd done lots of shoots and appearances shirtless, and it didn't bother any of us at all, especially Scott. Scott was practically known for his strip-teases. As I came out of the bathroom with my towel wrapped around my waist, Bob was adamantly stating,

"But I don't think that we should become known for prancing around shirtless. I know that girls like it, but really, I don't want us to give so freely. The real fans will like us regardless of whether we wear shirts or not."

"I'm sure it won't be done tastelessly," Dad was reasoning, his arms crossed and his fingers stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "In fact, I'm quite sure they'll let you wear a shirt, even if it's unbuttoned."

"I don't care whether I get to or not. I don't want to be treated like a sex symbol," argued Bob. "It's not our naked skin that should matter."

"We'll see how it goes tomorrow," suggested Dad.

"I didn't know we were doing a photo shoot tomorrow," I said, causing them both to look up at me.

"See, Dave doesn't mind being naked for a photo shoot," Clint teased.

"Do you want me to moon you, Clint? Yeah, I didn't think so," I shot back.

Clint grinned. "What, you want me to be blind?! It's bad enough you have to prance in here without a shirt."

Bob covered his eyes.

"David, put a shirt on! All the light is bouncing off your white chest and blinding me!"

I puffed up and pretended like I was trying to blind Bob. "Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful, Bobby."

I turned and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind me, and feeling a little exhilarated. I was secretly surprised that nobody had commented on me not being dressed, and in the bathroom with Zac. Then, maybe I was the only one thinking sexually about it. Oh damn, that definitely had to be it. What was wrong with me? I was usually just so normal, kind of calm, I rarely felt mad or mean, but now I felt so excited and prickly, like something had caused my nerve endings to spike and send my skin into a wave of goosebumps.

"I admit, I understand why Scott and Taylor are so into this," I whispered to myself, shaking my head and searching for my duffel bag. It was in the corner, and I found it and pulled a pair of dark red boxers from it. The cool air in the bedroom rushed up my back like a sip of ice water. I shivered, and pulled my boxers up my legs. Then, I flopped myself down on my bed, laying on my stomach, shutting my eyes, determined to let myself live in this uproarious utopia I had suddenly been thrust into. The feeling of sexual satisfaction was sugar-coating my entire body in a syrupy sweet shell. It was a delicious feeling.

If anyone had come up to me a day ago and told me that this was going to happen, I would have either laughed at them or hit them. Now, if I could go back and change it, I wouldn't, because the experience I'd just had opened my eyes to an entire different world I never would have normally considered traveling to. I mean, I never screwed around. It was difficult to find time to be alone with oneself when you traveled and stayed in hotel rooms all the time, shared a room with Clint, and was always around somebody. Admittedly, I was not an incredibly sexual person, I don't spend lots of time checking out girls, sexual appeal is not a part of my personality.

Slowly, I smiled. When Zac and I had overheard Scott and Taylor, at first, I'd felt shocked. Like a big void had opened and had sucked in Scott, or something. I felt its tug on me, too, and for a while I clung onto what I knew, onto what I felt I should cling to, but now - I was fine with letting life present me with new ideas. The comparison is awful, but it's like saying you hate pizza then actually having it and getting addicted to it. Zac was the first person I'd ever started to notice as being a sexual being, and maybe it was just because he was in the right place at the right time, but I felt as if I was connected to him and I could talk to him, and we could learn from and with each other.

The door opened.

Speak of the Devil.

Zac

Oh yeah, I was clean enough, but I couldn't tear myself from the shower. My mind spun around, whirling in all directions and taking me through a series of thoughts that began to form a circle.

Okay, so what does all this mean?

I took the bar of soap and slowly began to rub it on my arms, barely feeling the lather, so absorbed in my thought. What did this mean? Was I gay? What was going on? I felt so hypocritical and guilty, angry at myself for trashing Taylor and then turning around and doing the exact thing I was trashing him for. There was now a huge weight resting on my mind. Now, instead of my feelings being clear-cut, I was just more confused than ever, over what I wanted and what I was and what I had done.

The other half of my brain ached to reassure myself.

You didn't even touch him, he didn't touch you. It was friendly. No big deal. Lots of guys do it.

But you wanted to touch him! I retorted to myself. I knew that was true. I did wonder what it would be like, to maybe touch somebody in a special way, to maybe see what kissing was like, to even have feelings attached to the kiss. I wished I could wipe all the confusion and strange feelings out of my head, but they seemed to have overtaken it. I wanted to think about something else anything - Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day, for Christ's sake!

Christ. There was that issue, too. What I was feeling was WRONG, in all senses, I was sinning in my thoughts, I couldn't allow myself to think like this. I felt so dirty. I felt like no matter how long I soaped myself up and let the water clean me, I was never really clean, because the sin was not of my skin, it was of my soul itself. I clenched my hands and began to shake.

"I'm so sorry, Dave," I whispered. "I didn't mean to get you mixed up into this."

Oh, God, I was so damn selfish!! To bring Dave and Taylor and Scott into my own problems! Into my own insecurities! All the suppressed anger and confusion I'd been feeling for the last few months was now bubbling up and exploding out. Dave was my friend. Taylor, my brother, and Scott was Dave's brother and the guy my brother loved. I hated myself. I hated myself. I hated myself. But, now I knew what I had to do. I had to gather it all up, wad it tight, and shove it away again.

I forced myself to be calm and get out of the shower. Putting my boxers and jeans back on and not bothering to even dry my dripping-wet hair, I opened the door with the intent on finding Dave.

Clint and Bob were avidly talking. Frank had actually fallen asleep sitting up in his chair, and was dozing and snoring lightly. Clint caught sight of me.

"Now you see," he told Bob, "Zac will do it, too."

I offered them a small smile as I asked, "Where's Dave?"

"Bedroom," replied Bob.

I nodded and headed towards the bedroom, and opened the door.

Dave was laying on the bed farthest to the left, on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms and his ankles crossed. His head picked up and he looked at me in the doorway. I gulped. This was going to be harder than I thought. Why did he have to wear nothing but underwear? Yeah! The sight of his little ass just REALLY made me want to break it off! Oops . . . did you catch that sarcasm, or did you slip in it?

"Hey," he said softly.

I breathed deeply. "Hey."

We both remained silent for a moment. The sound of Dave's voice was so soft that his accent was amplified, and I found it sweet. A smile spread over Dave's mouth. "You can sit down, you know, if you want."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid and shutting the door behind me.

"You have long hair when it's wet," he noted.

"I'm going to just let it grow out," I said, taking a seat on the end of the opposite of the bed. If Dave wondered why I was being so distant, he didn't say anything about it, but he turned on his side facing me and ran his fingers through his wet brown hair.

"Um, Dave," I blurted. He studied me, and I had the feeling he knew that I was going to talk about what happened back in the shower.

"Yeah?"

"Back there . . . shit." Dammit! Why couldn't I talk?!

"Zac, don't let that make you nervous," Dave said, and that just made me even more nervous.

"Dave, I don't want to ever do anything like that again."

The look on Dave's face changed completely, from a soft one to a rather surprised one.

"That's fine with me, Zac," he said, and the calm tone of his voice revealed nothing of what he really thought, if anything.

Dave

Zac stood there in the doorway, his jeans doing his body no shame, some damp locks of dark blond hair falling in his face, his skin still kind of shining from the shower. To my surprise, waves of feeling coursed through my body. At first, it was affection, and then lust tingled somewhere, and also anxiousness. What would things be like now?

I stirred my voice.

"Hey."

Yes, Dave, let's sound a little hornier, and just a little more Canadian while saying that, I told myself sardonically. But Zac just looked at me, and repeated,

"Hey."

A pause ensued, and the feeling hit me that neither of us knew what to do or say next. Zac looked lost, and just stood there in the doorway, looking at me.

I tried to give him a smile. "You can sit down, you know, if you want."

"Oh," Zac nodded, and quickly shut the door behind him. His eyes searched for a place to sit, and his hair swung on his shoulders.

"You have long hair when it's wet," I told him.

"I'm going to just let it grow out," Zac replied, choosing to sit on the other bed. Okay, fine, if that was what he wanted. I didn't know why I expected him to sit on my bed with me. Zac seemed only a little flustered, and I rolled onto my side, trying to think of something to say to him. He beat me.

"Um, Dave," he said quickly. I gazed at him quizzically.

"Yeah?"

"Back there . . . shit." Zac stopped himself. For the first time, I think he was afraid of saying what was on his mind.

"Zac, don't let that make you nervous," I encouraged him, thinking he might have been nervous around me because of the shower thing. But Zac had no trouble telling me this time.

"Dave, I don't want to ever do anything like that again."

His words hit me, but I didn't really feel him. For a moment I thought I might be back in the bathroom that morning, listening to something that wasn't happening to me, but between two other people. And then I realized, as a girl realizes her teeny idol is getting married, that Zac was referring to our escapade, and he meant me.

I felt myself freeze up momentarily, not knowing what to think. I could have sworn that Zac had enjoyed himself as much as I had. He certainly could have fooled me.

"That's fine with me, Zac," I found myself saying in a robotic voice.

Neither Zac or I could say anything directly after that. I was too busy analyzing what exactly I thought. I felt completely shot-down. And for some reason, what he said was causing me to hurt somewhere inside. He wasn't just rejecting what had happened; he was, in a way, rejecting me.

"I feel too guilty about it."

"Why?" I questioned, trying desperately to understand why he was saying one thing and doing another.

"Because it's wrong."

"Why is it so wrong?"

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

Zac sighed. "Why do you have to interrogate me?"

"I'm just trying to understand," I said defensively. "I thought you wanted to. You even suggested it. I'm sorry, you're confusing me."

"Oh. You're confused." Zac let out a low, wry laugh. "So sorry."

I sat up, the hurtful tone of his words hitting me. "Yes. I'm confused. Are you purposefully trying to be so cold?"

"Yes," he answered, straight.

"Why?!"

"Because!! I can't explain it!" Zac turned around, staring forward at the door. Then, his voice came softly. "You're my friend, Dave. I can't drag you into my problems like this. I feel like I used you. I feel guilty. I feel horrible for thinking about you in the way that I did. I feel even worse for being such a shit to Tay just because I am scared I'll be like him, when he's a better person than me in the first place."

"Like Tay?"

"Dave, I'm afraid I'm gay," Zac admitted.

I raised my eyebrows. Oh, shit!! So that's why he was acting so strangely!! I can't believe I couldn't see it before. He had expressed his interest in jacking off with me, and even though we hadn't actually had any contact, he felt guilty for thinking about it, now. I shook my head.

"Zac, no . . ."

"No, you still don't understand," Zac expressed. He sighed. "I wanted to do more with you."

What was with Zac and him shocking me today?!

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"Oh please, don't ask me what I mean. If you don't understand that, just never mind!!"

"Sorry Zac, I just can't quite tell what you're thinking. Are you saying you wanted to be more like Tay and Scott?"

"Not quite." Zac fidgeted. "I don't want to feel you up in public places."

I found myself grinning. "But you want to feel me up in private?" Zac shot me a pained look. I dropped my grin. "Okay, forget I said that."

"I don't want like - a romantic thing like they have," Zac said, choosing his words carefully. "I just - I'm so confused. I don't know if I'm just horny or if I'm really into guys."

"Zac, I'd be willing to help you find out," I told him softly, "if you wanted to ever do that."

"Yeah, Dave. That would be cool," he replied, smiling a little.

Taylor

Eventually, Isaac grew bored of his Yahtzee and decided to go to bed. Dad sat in the living room area of the suite, on his laptop again, apparently really, really involved in a game of virtual checkers with some guy that lived in Finland.

Scott and I laid side by side on the bed Ike wasn't occupying, relaxing and talking quietly. I was writing in my journal, and we were talking about how fake I sounded in it. Knowing that my mother was going to grade it when I got home didn't exactly encourage me to write heavily about Scott and I.

"That's cute, Tay. 'Today, Zac and I went out to lunch with our new friends.' You can add in there that I had you for dessert."

I threw my pen at him. He laughed and covered his face in the sheet.

"You're too horny, Scott," I told him, and closed my journal.

"Yes. I am."

Scott grabbed my pen and then grabbed my hand. He drew a malformed heart on the top of my hand.

"Oh, all right, you're forgiven," I grumbled. "God, why do you have to be so sweet?! Grr, you suck."

"Not as well as you."

"Okay, I should have expected that, right?" I laughed.

"Right." Scott leaned in and nuzzled my neck for a moment.

For the rest of the night, we simply talked on and off and, after a little while, we just completely fell asleep, not under the covers, not undressed, me with a pen in my hand and Scott still in his shoes.

The earthquake caused the building to completely fall in. Then, I woke up.

Isaac had thrown himself onto our bed, waking us both up.

"Crack of dawn, you guys, get up," he said cheerfully. Scott and I moaned, for once, not because we were in a throw of passion, but because we were both still so tired.

"Hey, it's ten already. Wow, we got to sleep in today," Scott remarked. "Ike, I'm going to smack you upside your big fat head. We could have slept longer," I announced. Scott's head fell back on his pillow.

"I wonder what's up for today."

"The premiere is tomorrow," I said.

Scott grinned. "Hell yeah. I can't believe we're going to get to play for Drew Barrymore."

"I kind of like David Arquette," I said dismissively.

Scott grinned at me with a weird sort of demented pride.

"Oh, yeah, and Tay, this came for you. I have no idea how they found us, but they did, and this was, like, slid under the door this morning."

Ike handed me a plain brown envelope with the words "TAYLOR HANSON" nearly printed in all-capital letters.

"Cool, you got a present from a fan, Tay," Scott commented.

"Wow, I don't know how they find out where we are, but they always manage to," I sighed, opening the envelope. Isaac headed back into the living room. "We brought back doughnuts, hurry up before Zac gets here and inhales all the doughnut holes at once!"

Scott and I grinned at each other. I reached into the envelope and pulled out a big, laminated black and white picture.

"Holy fuck!!!" I almost screamed.

"Taylor, watch your mouth!!" I heard Dad retort from the other room.

"Shit! What is it, Tay?!" Scott laughed.

I wordlessly handed him the picture, the fuzzy black and white image of us stark clear in my mind. Somebody had taken a picture of us kissing by the fountain, and sadly, it was clearly us, and you could see our mouths connected. At the bottom, in red Sharpie, it stated in the same capitals handwriting, "I SAW YOU."

Scott gasped. "This has to be a joke!"