::ring:: ::click:: Hey, it's Michele. I'm not here, so you know what to do. ::beep::

"Hey. It's me. Guess you must be out or something... Um, we're gonna be home for a few days next week, so... I guess I'll see ya... Bye..."

Michele pushed the repeat button on her answering machine, letting Taylor's voice resound through the room. The transmission was slightly scratchy, possibly because he'd been dialing from his cell phone, but his voice still sounded like music to her ears. He'd been gone for nearly three weeks and the few words he'd left on her machine the night before had been all she'd heard from him. She couldn't say that she blamed him; he'd been unbelievably upset and angry the last time they'd spoken, but she'd still expected more than a single phone call. She'd taken matters into her own hands a few times and called him, understandably reaching his voice mail, but she'd hung up before the record tone had sounded.

She sighed as he flopped back onto the sofa, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. She wanted desperately to call him back; she *needed* to call him back, let him know that she was still holding on. But she couldn't bring herself to lift the phone from the receiver. Her thoughts and emotions felt so jumbled in her head, she wasn't sure if she could sound coherent and rational enough to talk to him. She wasn't sure if he even wanted to hear from her.

And then there was the stack of portfolios that sat menacingly on her coffee table. Even though she'd just returned from work, countless hours of work still lay ahead. She'd been given the job of selecting the photographs that would be used in the agency's newest magazine ad and needless to say, she wasn't looking forward to it. Especially since she'd found Taylor's voice on her machine. He'd thrown her entire evening off kilter. Any energy and motivation she had possessed had been suddenly drained from her body as she pressed repeat again and again.

She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples in attempt to alleviate the headache that was beginning to spread over her forehead. Reluctantly deciding that her work might take her mind off Taylor, she resignedly pulled the first portfolio from the table and sighed as she flipped it open.

--

::ring:: ::click:: You've reached Tay's phone, so leave me a message and I might call you back. ::beep::

"...Hi...um, I got your message...You're coming home, huh? I hope you can stop by sometime... Guess I'll talk to you later... Bye..."

Michele replaced the phone in it's cradle, angrily swiping at the tears that were threatening the corners of her eyes. After a few hours of distractedly sifting through the portfolios, she'd finally broken down and furiously punched in the number to Taylor's cell phone. Once his recorded voice had sounded over the line, however, every ounce of empowerment she had was sucked from her. Hot tears had sprang to her eyes and every word she'd been ready to say got lost in her emotions. As a result, her voice had sounded shaky and watery, a betrayer to the confidence and strength she'd led everyone to believe she possessed. She cursed herself for sounding so weak; the last thing she wanted was for Taylor to suspect that she'd been miserable the past few weeks, that she drove numbly to her office each morning only to return home to stare vacantly at the TV or at some book she'd already read. She didn't want him to know that she worked herself ragged, trying to busy herself enough that she didn't have time to think of him or his brother. She didn't want him to know that when night fell, when all work was done and all was quiet, when her body fairly ached with exhaustion and throbbing headaches had stretched across her forehead, that she lay awake crying, her body no longer able to withstand the longing.

She stared at the phone a few moments longer, wishing there was some way she could erase the words she'd just spoken. Sighing resignedly, she rolled her head back against the sofa, shoving a portfolio out of her lap so she could tuck her knees up beneath her chin. She curled her arms around her legs, buried her face in her knees and cried.

--

Michele cut the engine of her Jetta and quickly slid out of the leather seat, grateful for the free afternoon her superior at the agency had given her. She raised her sunglasses to enjoy the bright sun warming her face and her soul. She practically skipped to the back door, humming a tune as she went, suddenly feeling better than she'd felt in months. She stopped abruptly halfway to the porch, her brow creasing when she noticed the displaced gravel in her driveway. Tire tracks. Her heart began thumping wildly as she imagined the possibilities. The probability that it had been her brother outweighed any other, but she couldn't hide her excitement, and nervousness, at the thought that it could've been Taylor.

Her stomach flew into her throat as she neared the back door and noticed a thin sheet of paper tucked between the hinges of the screen door. She knew then that her visitor more than likely had been Taylor. Her brother would never have been so kind as to leave a note; he would've just used the key she kept under a flower pot and barged right in. But a note was so typically Taylor, so thoughtful and considerate. So, with trembling fingers she slipped the paper from it's holding place and slowly unfolded it.

Michele,

Sorry I missed you, again. There's something I wanna talk to you about, so gimme a call when you get home and maybe we can get together or something.

Taylor

So, with hope outweighing fear and the cordless sitting within arms reach, she took a deep breath and punched in the 7 digits she knew as well as her own.

--

The rumbling of Taylor's truck shook Michele from the daze she'd fallen into while she absently brushed her hair out in front of the vanity in the bathroom. He'd apparently been waiting for her call, for he picked up on the first ring and readily agreed to come right over. His voice had been tired and unreadable, but his eagerness only further asserted the anxiety she'd already been feeling. She'd hurriedly changed from her dressy pant suit into a cotton sundress after he called and had planned on tidying up a bit before he arrived. So, when she heard his truck, she threw her brush down and practically ran into the living room, frantically re-stacking the magazine and books on the coffee table and straightening the slightly skewed couch cushions.

His gentle knock sent a shiver up her spine and threw a rash of goose bumps across her skin. Swallowing around the lump that anticipation had formed in her throat, she subconsciously smoothed down her dress and made her way to the door.

"Hey," she found herself practically speechless as she slung the door open and her eyes fell upon his lean form. The old adage of 'a sight for sore eyes' was being proven a thousand times over as her eyes washed over every inch of him, amazed and disbelieving at the same time. Her eyes pricked with tears as she fought the urge to throw herself in his arms. His eyes were covered with sunglasses, but he removed them when she spoke, his vibrant blue eyes throwing storms of electricity between them. She noticed his hands were clenched into fists at his sides and she wondered if his palms were sweating as much as hers, if his heart was pounding as wildly as hers, if his body was aching as much as hers. She met his eyes again, but her gaze involuntarily lowered to his lips. She instinctively licked her own suddenly parched lips and her heart sped up when she saw his eyes glaze over.

Michele's head swam in the sudden instant before his mouth was on hers. He splayed his fingers along her jaw, steadying her as he devoured her, his mouth rough and demanding, his lips bruising as they moved desperately against hers. She tangled her hands harshly in his hair as his tongue reclaimed the warm cavern of her mouth. He groped at her wildly, insistently pulling her body to the heat of his as he backed her up to the kitchen table. He slipped his hands beneath the short hem of her dress, flattening his palms out behind her thighs and lifting her to sit on the table top. He spread her legs with his hands before they circled to her ass, roughly pulling her to the table's edge and against the throbbing heat that strained against his jeans.

His mouth relentlessly implored hers, sucking all the practicality, strength, and willpower she had. She felt desperate for him, for his touch and his heat. Her shaky, anxious fingers ripped at his belt buckle, tearing open the zipper and roughly slipping her hand inside. His body buckled against her when she grasped him and drew a long, tugging stroke. His probing fingers pushed away the thin fabric of her thong as he guided himself thickly inside her, his lips finally tearing from hers with a gasp to pull her body closer to his. He circled his arms tightly around her back as his hips began to move against hers. Michele could feel his heart thumping wildly against her breast, his hot breath moist on her neck. She slipped her hands beneath his t-shirt, clutching at the heat of his sweat dampened skin as his pelvis slapped against hers. She squeezed her legs tighter around him as he increased his pace, her own climax beginning to build in her belly. She lost control of her voice as a sudden orgasm gripped her, sending her body into a shuddering frenzy. She felt his muscles tense beneath her hands as he let himself go, filling her with his heat.

Taylor collapsed against her as his motions slowed and his body began to recover. He kept his arms tightly around her as he rested his cheek on her shoulder, planting a breathy kiss in the crook of her neck. She dropped her head onto his chest as she tried to gain some composure. She was sure that she'd never *felt* so much in her life. She didn't try to think, didn't try to rationalize or comprehend. All she did was feel. And she felt so acutely aware of every inch of Taylor's body that was touching hers: his hands splayed possessively across her back, the heat of his lips on her shoulder, his pounding heart resounding into her chest, his pelvis pressing into hers, the warmth from his fullness seeping out around their still joined bodies.

He kept her in his arms for a few minutes, finally loosening the embrace as his lips traced a path of feathery kisses from her ear to her lips. His eyes remained closed as he pressed his forehead to hers, Michele exhaling a deep, composing breath. His arms fell languidly around her waist as a sense of contentment and drowsiness enveloped them. He slowly removed himself from her, a soft smile tugging at this lips when she helped to gently tuck him back into his jeans. He smoothed her dress back down over her thighs and took her hands as she slid from the table.

They stood for a moment, hands intertwined, trying to regain control of their emotions and get their rational thought flowing again. Taylor leaned down and placed a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips, Michele sighing beneath his attentions. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," she whispered as he pulled her back into his arms. "Me neither."

"It's just..." he swallowed and Michele closed her eyes at the feel of his Adam's apple moving against her forehead. "..when I saw you...I couldn't help it. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too, Taylor," she breathed. "You feel...so...amazing."

"Mmm," he amended and Michele's brow creased when she felt his embrace loosen. She pulled away to meet his gaze, but found him staring over her shoulder. "It just..."

"Just what?" she asked, her voice growing shaky as a tinge of worry shot through her. "Taylor, look at me.."

He finally met her gaze, his eyes heavy with what Michele interpreted as guilt and regret. "...it's only gonna make this even harder..."

Michele barely heard him; she was already reverting to the hopelessness and despair she'd grown accustomed to. But she knew what he was saying; she'd seen it in his eyes. "Just go ahead and say it, Taylor.." she whispered as she listlessly slipped from his arms and strolled wearily to the living room to sink down onto the couch. She stared stonily ahead, trying desperately to control the tears that were threatening her eyes. She realized as she vaguely felt the shift of the cushions as Taylor sat beside her that she had never felt so...alone, so worthless, so disgusted with him and so ashamed of herself.

"Michele.." Taylor began slowly, his voice smooth and comforting. Her head fell into her hands as her tears finally broke free. Taylor wrapped a reassuring arm across her back as she sobbed, swallowing to quell the nausea that was quickly rising into his throat. His stomach had been clenched in knots since he'd first appeared at her back door and the mere thought of what had transpired since then made him want to hurl. "I'm so sorry...but I can't do this anymore."

"Do what, Taylor?" she whispered hoarsely.

"This.." he dropped his arm from around her and slid away enough that his body wasn't pressed against hers. "All of this. I can't be away from you and know that you're miserable...and that it's all my all fault."

"It's not yo..."

"Just let me finish, baby," he cut her off, but it came out more of a plea than a demand. She could see the desperation in his eyes so she nodded slightly and he continued. "I hate knowing that I screwed up things between you and Zac. You were both so perfectly happy before I came into the picture and now look what's happened. And whether you'll admit it or not, it *is* my fault. I put my own selfish desires before anything and I fucked up the lives of the two people I love most."

"Taylor, it's not that simple.."

"But it is," he said, falling back onto the couch, a wry smile tugging memories to his eyes. "I used to be so jealous of Zac."

Michele turned around, intrigued by his confession. She pulled both her legs onto the couch so she could fully turn herself toward him. "What do you mean?"

"He always had such a wonderful relationship with you and I...I wanted that so much," he swallowed. "I wanted you so much."

Michele cocked her head, startled that he was confessing his desire for her when all he'd done at the time was grate on her nerves with his perverted accusations of her relationship with Zac. She stared at him intently, measuring his face for any sort of understanding, when suddenly realization dawned on her. Her face contorted in disbelief, unable to comprehend that he could be capable of what she feared he had done. His eyes sheepishly met hers and the guilt behind them was unmistakable.

"You son of a bitch," the words flew from her mouth as she leapt from the couch, fury overwhelming her senses. She narrowed her eyes at him, making sure he saw the disgust she held for him. "You *used* me." She spat the word out, it's connotation leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Michele..." he stood up in a weak attempt to defend himself.

"You *knew* that Zac and I were just friends, that we weren't sleeping together," she accused. "And you took advantage of that. You played us both against each other," she laughed haughtily in spite of herself, wondering how she could've missed what now seemed so obvious. "You used sex to drive us apart, because you *knew* how Zac felt. You intentionally set out to sleep with me so Zac would hate me. So *you* could get what *you* wanted."

He only stared at her, bewildered by her outburst. His silence only managed to fuel her anger.

"And you got it, didn't you? You fucked your own brother out of a wonderful relationship, so you could have it, you self-centered prick. And even now, all this grand confessing you're doing, is to save your own fucking conscience." She took a breath to swallow around the lump that had formed in her throat. "All you ever cared about was yourself. You never cared about me. All I am to you is a quick and easy fuck, right Tay? Just like in there.." she gestured to the kitchen, memories floating out to cool her temper and she fought them angrily, not wanting to give in to the love she felt for him. "I loved you so fucking much, Taylor.."

"You've gotta listen to me, Michele.." he reached for her but she jerked away from him. "I never meant for any of this to happen, baby. You have to believe me. I never wanted Zac to hate you. I never wanted you to be unhappy." She turned her back to him so he couldn't see her watery eyes. "Yes, I admit it, I wanted you. I wanted you so fucking bad." He closed in behind her, his hot breath gently ruffling her hair. "I wanted to fuck you so long and so hard. I wanted to hear you scream my name." A shudder ran through her as chill bumps rose on her skin and she couldn't help but turn to him. His eyes glazed over in a hint of relief. "When I came here that night, that was my only plan. I swear to fucking God, Michele, I never anticipated all this other shit. I never planned on anything but one night of being with you. I never thought anything else would happen. I never thought I'd fall in love with you."

"And I did," he continued when he saw she wasn't going to speak. "I don't know when exactly, but I did. I think...maybe I might've been falling for you all along - the way you were with Zac, so loving and adoring. And that night...I woke up once and all the rain had stopped and all I could hear was your breathing. And you looked like an angel; you felt like an angel. And I knew I always wanted to feel like I felt at that moment."

"Taylor.." his name left her lips in a breath before she could stop it and in an instant, her arms were around him. He crossed his arms beneath her shoulder blades and held her tighter than he ever had. They stood there, not daring to move lest they lose the connection they'd created. They embraced long enough for the tear stains on their cheeks to dry and for a resolution to be made up in Michele's mind.

She gently pulled away from him, tenderly touching her lips to his. "But you're right. We can't go on like this."

His eyes lit up with the beginnings of a protest, but he knew it was pointless. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Michele was right.

"It's not fair to any of us. We all need some time to get our lives back in order. We can't be any good for each other if we're miserable with ourselves," Michele surprised herself with the voice of reason she suddenly possessed. She nearly smiled at how clear things suddenly seemed. "We all just need some time."

"Tour," Taylor said, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands. "We're leaving for the tour next week. 6 months."

Michele felt herself want to choke up at the thought of not seeing him for that long, but she knew that it was probably for the best. "That should be long enough," she said lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, we kinda planned it that way," he chuckled, his smile dimming as he caught Michele's gaze and the full meaning of what they were doing finally sunk in. "Come here," he opened his arms and she stepped willingly into his embrace. He held her tenderly but firmly, memorizing the way she felt in his arms. A smile curled his lips when they sighed simultaneously, a breath that filled his senses with her essence and a fullness he never wanted to lose.

"Promise you won't forget me," she breathed and he nearly died from the perfection of her lips against his shoulder.

"I promise."