Scott

"Ha," I said, getting my silver one-strapped backpack and searching for my CD player. Dad started talking to Sheila and I put in a Radiohead CD. Then, I went on the mystical Quest for Headphones.

So, cool. Tay was spending the night, even though he didn't know it. I hoped he didn't freak out when he woke up. I giggled at the thought. I'll wake him up after the fam goes to bed and roll out the bed for him, I decided.

Clint wandered back through the living room area of the hotel suite in his sleep-shirt and boxers.

"Oh, damn, Scott, I must be tired," he said. "I was looking for Dave!"

"There he is," I cracked, pointing to the sprawled out Taylor.

"Dave's gone blond. It's a sad, sad day." Clint shook his head. "Well, 'night, Scotty. I'm going to go take up an entire bed."

"Okay. 'Night, Clinty."

Dad got off the phone, seeing as how it was long distance, and all, and turned to me.

"Clint gone to bed?"

"Yep," I said, finally pulling out my headphones.

"Okay. Careful not to wake up Taylor," Dad said, and retired to the bedroom. "G'night, son."

"Night, Dad," I said, distracted. There was a damn knot in the headphone cords. I tossed them back in the backpack. "Screw it, I'll watch TV," I decided, whispering for the sake of the sleeping Taylor.

I crept over to the TV and flipped it on. It was on the hotel's channel, which was advertising all the great things there were to do in LA and about room service and crap. I changed the channel. Oooh, be still my beating heart!! Animal Planet!! It was that weird Australian guy that hunted snakes and stuff in all kinds of stupid locations. I flipped again. A local channel, in the middle of broadcasting the news, since it was just now around 10:10 in the evening here. No wonder all of us were so tired - we'd gotten up at seven New York time and that was four in the morning California time. Now it was one in the morning in New York even though it was ten here. I watched it for a moment to get the tiny weather update, then changed the channel again.

Bob emerged from the bathroom in his boxers with a towel wrapped around his head in a turban style, a thing he's picked up on from Sheila and Mom. I cracked up at him. He rolled his eyes and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. "Ha ha, Scott," he said. I just laid down on the ground laughing and began rolling around; my sides were aching.

"You look just like Mom," I gasped, guffawing relentlessly.

"I hope you slip on the soap and hurt yourself," Bob grinned. "Anyway, your turn. G'night."

"Yeah, g'night, Donna Reed," I giggled, getting up and going into the bathroom. I'd left the TV on, but I knew it wouldn't disturb Tay or anyone else at the low volume it was at.

Bob had left it nice and steamy, and the floor was very puddled-up. Count my lucky stars, there were still four towels left, and housekeeping would deliver more tomorrow morning. I closed the door and proceeded to strip down, taking my trunks and boxers off in one swoop. Then, standing stark naked in the white and black bathroom, I turned on the water again.

Should I shave? I asked myself, putting my hand on my chin and leaning forward to stare at my face in the mirror. Remembering the appearance we had tomorrow, I decided for it, but postponed it till after my shower. The water was nice and hot, and I stepped in eagerly. Then, I stepped back out to get my trunks and boxers to wash them clean of the chlorine. I hung them on the towel rack by me and then stepped back under the nice, hot, massaging spray.

I could have groaned in relief. Ahh, that felt so good. I could feel the water washing away the skin of chlorinated pool water that was still on my body. I stuck my head under the spray and got my hair wet again. Smiling as I caught glimpse of the bath plug, I stuck it in and let the bathtub begin to fill up with water. It lapped at my toes and after what seemed like only a moment, it was up to my ankles.

First, I took the shampoo my brothers and I all shared and squeezed some directly onto my head, the cold gel liquid making a delightful shiver run up and down my spine. I slid my fingers through my hair and brought my head into a bubbly lather. With the water hitting my chest and the shampoo's heavy bubbles slipping down my back at an impressive rate, it didn't take long to become where I was standing in a bubble-bath. Reaching my toe forward, I unplugged the drain so the tub wouldn't overflow. Some of the bubbles stuck to my leg hair as the water sank, taking the bubbles with it. For some reason, as my toe played with the bathtub plug, it reminded me of an old Dick Van Dyke episode where Mary Tyler Moore got her toe stuck in a bathtub faucet.

You are weird, Scott, I laughed at myself. Why did I remember such a weird thing? I turned around to rinse the soap from my hair. Something in my mind flashed back to when Bob said to me in the taxi, "Long-ass day." God, he was right. When would this day be over? So much had happened! Most importantly, though, we'd made friends who liked us for us and not for being The Moffatts, who were fun to hang with and cool to talk to, and understood what kind of things were happening in our lives.

Since my hair was rinsed, I grabbed the bar of soap in the dish and began to lather myself up. "Strawberries," I realized, meaning the scent of the soap. I began to hum "Strawberry Fields Forever." When I couldn't remember all of that, I changed it to "Strawberry Alarmclock."

Then I chuckled. You are weird, Scott, my mind repeated. I got out of the shower. Wow, now I smelled really strawberry-like. I wrapped a towel around my waist and dried my hair a little with a smaller one, and proceeded to shave. Usually I took concern not to nick myself, but my mind was so full of other thoughts that I didn't even think of that, and came out unmauled.

"Hey, that's a good system," I realized. "Mental note to self - keep nicks off mind."

I nodded to myself, smiling at my reflection in the mirror, and exited the bathroom, turning off the light behind me.

Tay was still asleep. I figured as much. My duffel bag was by the desk on the other side of the couch, and that held all my clean boxers in them. I went across the room, noting Jay Leno was on, and rummaged through my duffel bag. The door to the bedroom was closed.

"La la la . . . hmm, white or blue funky weird?" I questioned out loud softly. "How about blue funky weird." I then chuckled at me answering myself. If Tay was awake behind me, he must have thought I was a psycho. My boxers in hand, I turned around to look at Tay. He was still asleep.

Should I? . . .

Tay could wake up . . . but . . . no, then again, if he didn't awake with a start at Bob yelling about a shower, he wouldn't wake up if I put on my underwear real quick.

Hehehe, Scott, you're being really stupid today, I laughed at myself, turning around and dropping my towel onto the floor. I bent over and stepped into my boxers, and pulled them halfway up before I noticed the problem that had . . . arisen . . . if you know what I mean . . .

"Shit. Go away!" I hissed at my hard-on. God, I swear I hated being a guy sometimes. Voice changes and spontaneous erections were so incredibly annoying. I wish I only got an erection five days out of a month. Then again, I reconsidered, it was better than carrying a child for nine months and then . . . ew . . . giving birth to it. How painful was that?

I pulled my underwear up around my waist, and clenched my teeth in annoyance as my eager dick pushed its way out the front flap of my boxers. I tucked it back in and adjusted it beneath my waistline so it wouldn't pay me any more unexpected visits. Looking over my shoulder at Tay, I discovered he was still asleep. I smiled. Good.

Then, I sat down to watch Jay Leno. After seeing some crappy actor was going to be on, I switched to David Letterman.

"Lemon-fresh Letterman," I said, and watched that.

Taylor

Waking up a little, I discovered that my side was numb, and tried to roll over, but there was nothing there, and I collided with something. That's not right, I can't collide with something if I'm laying down, I thought, and opened my eyes to see what was up with that.

As the blurry images came into focus, I didn't see my room or the hotel bedroom, I saw a coffee table and red and white oriental-print fabric beneath me, and in front of the coffee table was Scott Moffatt, looking back at me over a bare shoulder, grinning.

"Well. He wakes up," Scott said.

Am I a Moffatt? I asked myself, confused. Where's everybody else?

"Umm, you fell asleep over here . . . and we sent Dave back in your place."

"Oh, so I am a Moffatt," I said, before I could stop myself.

"Yeah, an honorary Moffatt," Scott replied.

"What time is it?" I looked at my watch. It was 12:44. In the morning. "God, Scott, aren't you tired?"

"Yeah, I am . . . but I didn't want to wake you up, but I also wanted to roll out the couch bed for you," he explained, sweeping the bangs from his cheeks with his left hand. "Also, do you wanna borrow a pair of boxers or something?"

Looking down, I realized I was still in my swim trunks.

"That would be really great," I said. Scott leaned over and pulled a pair of blue-striped boxers out of his duffel bag. "Here you go. I'll roll out the bed for ya."

I got up dizzily and said, "I'll be in the bathroom."

"Okay," he said, and I flicked on the bathroom light. It temporarily blinded me, but I shut the door and pulled my trunks and still damp boxers off. Rather, I peeled my boxers off. In the mirror, I caught sight of Scott's trunks and wet underwear hanging in the shower, so I put mine with his, took a piss, and put on Scott's boxers, which were quite comfortable. He was the exact size I was. Then, I exited again.

Scott had rolled out the bed, which was pre-fitted with sheets and a navy blue blanket.

"Sorry, you'll have to use the sofa cushions for pillows," he apologized.

"It's okay. Thanks for lending me the use of your boxers."

Scott eyed me. Strangely, I grew titillated as he investigated me quickly in his underwear.

Cut it out, Tay, I ordered myself, growing scared at my reaction to him. Oh my God, what the fuck is wrong with you? Scott turned back to untuck the blanket from its tight embrace of the mattress, and when he did, I put my hand over my heart. God, it was tharrumping off the charts. I forced myself to take a deep breath. I didn't even think of why he'd suddenly looked me over like that. It reminded me of earlier that evening when he'd been changing and I'd just found myself staring at him without reason.

"Okay, here you go," Scott said, having loosened the sheets and blanket from their death grip.

"Okay," I breathed, and we both sort of stood there for a minute. "Um, you going to bed? I was gonna watch TV for a while," I told Scott.

He shrugged. "I'll stay up with you if you're going to watch TV. Otherwise, I was going to just write a bit."

"Do what you want," I said, not wanting to keep him from his writing, but not wanting him to go to bed and leave me alone in the room without my brothers. I was rarely separated from them, and I felt sort of weird without them for the first time in so long.

"Let's see what else is on," he suggested, flopping onto the couch bed on his stomach. I sat by him, and he took the remote and flipped from David Letterman. "I know Animal Planet is on-"

"Oh, God, I hate that show," I rolled my eyes.

"I know, that dick that hosts it is so stupid!" Scott agreed. I laughed, and relaxed.

Scott

Then, after we actually started to pay attention and realized what we were doing, I ran through the channels till I found MTV. Sarah Michelle Gellar was being featured on an MTV News Brief.

"Sarah Michelle Gellar is hot," Tay told me. I had to agree with him.

"You know who I hate, though? Britney Spears," I said to Tay.

"Ugh, me too!! Her nipples are always all hard because she had a boob job," he said. I raised my eyebrows.

"I noticed that, but I didn't know she had a boob job! I just thought, you know, no brains, no talent, equals big tits."

Taylor busted up laughing. Soon, we were both laughing.

"That poor little hoe, I'm sure she's not a bad person or anything . . ." he laughed.

"Guccis for hoochies," I cracked, and we were soon both trying not to fall off of the bed in our peals of laughter.

"Oh shit," Tay grasped his sides, his face red. "I haven't laughed so hard since I don't know when."

"Ahem . . . boys?" came a voice at the doorway of the bedroom. We turned around to face my father standing there.

"Oh, sorry, Dad," I apologized immediately. Dad leaned against the doorway. "We'll shut up, I promise."

"It's not that I don't want you boys to have a good time, but Scott, we have to be at Oakhurst by nine-thirty tomorrow, and you're going to feel miserable if you don't get any sleep," he said, and we both knew he was right. I sighed.

"Okay, Dad, we'll go to sleep."

"Are you sleeping in here, Scott?" Dad asked.

I looked at Tay, who shrugged. "You can if you want, I don't care either way."

I nodded at Dad.

"Okay, boys, I'll grab you two some pillows." With that, he disappeared back into his bedroom momentarily. Taylor and I took one look at each other and cracked up, trying not to laugh loudly, so it sounded more like we were both choking. We coughed it back by the time Dad came back in and threw a couple of pillows at us. "Good night, guys."

"G'night," we both said.

I crawled to the little lamp beside the couch, the one in the room that was on, and switched it off. We were bathed in shallow darkness. The TV was still on, so there was a faint blue glow by us.

"I guess maybe we should try to get some sleep," Tay said, and I had to agree, even though I wanted to just stay up and have fun. I had just caught my second wind, and though my body was tired, my mind was still racing. So, I turned off the television.

Tay and I crawled beneath the covers and adjusted the pillows beneath our heads. I paused, a question surfacing in my mind. I whispered to Taylor,

"Does it seem weird to you that we don't even really know each other but we're . . ."

"In bed together?"

We laughed, stupidly.

"I wasn't going to say all that."

"I know what you mean. Yeah, kinda weird. It seems like we've known each other forever."

Taylor

"Yeah," Scott nodded; I felt him nodding by the movement of his pillow.

"I wonder what Zac and Dave are up to," I said softly, moving my feet around under the blanket and hitting Scott's leg. "Oh, sorry."

"S'okay," Scott replied. There was a pause. "They're probably asleep by now."

"Either that or Zac has launched Dave far, far within the realms of Pokémon."

"Hehehe. Hey, Tay."

"Hum?"

"Know how many teenies would die to be in my place?"

"Hehehe." I blushed. "I have no idea who would be that sick and/or desperate."

"What do you mean? They love you, Tay, and you know it."

"Oh, they think they love me. They don't know what love is, though," I said, thinking of all the screaming girls at our concerts and all the "We Love Tay" signs. I never did really believe they were for me. Some other guy named Taylor. Some cute guy. I wasn't cute, believe me. I was really ugly, in fact.

"They're all eight years old. They couldn't feel love if it crawled up their ass and came out their ear and said 'Hello, I'm this little thing called Love,'" Scott said. I sighed.

"Yeah, well, I'm sixteen, and I've never been in love, either."

That got Scott quiet for a minute. "Me neither, Taylor. The funny thing is, that so many songs we've written are about girls and love, when I've never really become close to a girl in that way, never had a real love beyond a crush or something."

"I always wonder how right I am in assuming what it's going to be like," I confided in Scott. I couldn't believe how easy he was to talk to. He related to me in every aspect. I didn't feel weird talking about love and girls with him, and he was just as ready to share with me as I was with him.

"Maybe it's different for everybody," Scott wondered, staring at the ceiling in the dark. Now, the lights of the city were shining in past the closed curtains. I caught a gleam in his dark eye from the light. Oh, here I was looking at him again. I transferred my attention to the ever-so-interesting ceiling, too.

"Sometimes I wonder if . . . being in Hanson . . . touring . . . being so busy all the time . . . being home-schooled . . . if I'm missing out on something," I whispered. Scott turned his head towards me a little. I continued. "I mean, we're friends, we're spending the night, this is supposed to be normal, right? We're in a hotel room in Los Angeles awaiting music business tomorrow. How normal is that? . . . I can't take an interest in any girl who likes me because I'm always scared they like me because I'm Taylor Hanson, the Hanson guy, not because I'm Tay. Because I'm me, because I like horror movies and I hate diet pop even though I have to drink it all the time and because I have this security blanket at home that I can't get rid of even though it's in rags, I mean, that would be cruel to that blanket. No. Every girl I've ever become interested in treats me like Taylor Hanson, the Pop Star. The Grammy Nominee. I can't just be Tay. To them I have to be Mr. 'MMMBop.' It's not fair. It's hard to want to be around them when they scream at you and start having an epileptic seizure when you're five feet from them. I feel like I'm missing out on a more normal opportunity of falling in love with someone who doesn't treat me like an alien."

I stopped, and the silence that took over the room was strange.

Scott spoke up a couple of minutes later. "I know what you mean. We've been all over the place in the past few years. All of my friends back home have gotten used to me not being there, and I'm just sort of not included in their activities anymore. Now, we can't go out in public without a bodyguard following us around. It makes it kind of hard to just blend in, or just be normal. It seems like we wanted nothing more than to be noticed. We wanted it for so long. But I'm just - I'm so jealous of my friends in Canada because they get to go to school dances and have girlfriends and first kisses and stuff. It's not that I'm ungrateful. If I wasn't in the band I don't know where I would be or what I would be doing. I can't imagine it. But sometimes I feel . . ."

Scott

I stopped, not being able to think of a proper word.

"Lonely."

I stared at Tay. "Yes. That's it exactly."

Tay looked down. "Yeah. Me too."

I just sat there in disbelief. In one word, Taylor had just described my entire speech. Most people wouldn't understand like Tay and I did. "How can you be lonely with your crew and entire family on the road with you?" A very ignorant thing to say for those who could never fill our shoes. Staying up and talking with Tay was the first thing I'd done with a friend in so long that I couldn't remember the last fun thing I'd done with someone whose last name wasn't Moffatt.

"I guess it would be stupid to say I wanted a girlfriend right now anyway," Taylor remarked softly. He stuck one arm behind his head and laid on it. "We're so busy, and we move around all the time. I'm never home. I could never expect a girl to sit there without me for weeks - or months - at a time. That would be a complete waste of her time."

"Even if you really liked her?" I asked. "I don't know if I could spare myself like that. If she wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with her, I'm sure we could make it work out somehow."

Tay reflected. "It would be hard to do that. Even if I was just wildly in love with her, I don't know that I could stand to let her go dateless every Friday and Saturday. To have someone else take her to dances I couldn't make it to. It would be better to not get involved in the first place, I think."

"I see your point," I admitted. "I'm ashamedly twenty times more selfish than you. I feel jipped because half the guys I know have lost their virginity by now and I haven't ever even kissed anyone."

"I haven't, either."

"There's still time, I know. I know not every person has sex in their teens. Some don't lose it till they're twenty-four. Lots of people wait till they're married. But I guess I just want some sort of experience first."

He nodded, fingering his left ring finger. That reminded me . . .

"Tay, I don't want to butt my nose where it doesn't belong, but if you aren't seeing anyone, then why do you have that ring on your ring finger?"

Taylor giggled. "It's my engagement ring."

I got confused. "What?"

"Look - well, it's dark. Never mind 'look.' But it's a silver ring with the Hanson symbol on it. You know, the weird design on the CD of Middle of Nowhere? It's the Hanson sign. This is my Hanson ring. Hanson is my engagement," he explained. I saw it. It all made sense. He tacked on, "I can't believe you notice these things."

"I saw it on the plane. I thought you must have a girlfriend or something."

"Sadly, no. I'm girlfriendless."

"Well, welcome to the club."

"Welcome to the club? I founded this club, God dammit."

"I am President of the Canadian chapter," I replied. Taylor laughed, then grew quiet.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Talking to you really helps."

I paused, and smiled.

"I know. Talking to you helps, too. I'm glad I almost killed you back in that terminal. Thanks for - being there."

"Do you know what I think?"