It was Taylor.
She explained to me that the photo was hers. That she and Danica were drunk, and that she—Taylor—had sent me the photo by mistake. That it was intended for some guy she was dating.
I didn’t believe her.
* * *
Later that night, Taylor called me again to give me shit, because apparently she didn’t believe me either, when I told her I’d delete the photo.
I didn’t delete it.
She said Danica was “mortified” and asked me, again and not so politely this time, to delete it.
I told her I would. But I didn’t.
I kept it.
I didn’t tell Ash about it.
I didn’t say a word to Danica about it, either.
When I saw her later that night, back at her and Ash’s place after the bar, she sure as hell didn’t ask. Fortunately, we were both drunk enough that we just pretended it didn’t happen.
But it did.
And in the days that followed, I started playing out all thewhat ifscenarios in my mind all over again. This time, the questions—and potential answers—were even more of a mindfuck.
What if it wasn’t just me who was silently longing? What if there really were feelings on the other side of this thing?
What if she sent me that photo on purpose?
What if she sent it to me by mistake, but she really wanted me to have it?
What if she really did love me?
What if Ash did, too?
What if we could actually have it all?
I let myself picture having it all, again—having both of them—the way I had when we’d hung out on tour. The life I’d always wanted, just beyond my grasp.
I still couldn’t quite believe that it could be within my reach, though.
Could it really be within reach?
Or… what if we couldn’t have it all, but we could have some small part of it?
Could that be enough?
What if we were friends, special friends, with very special benefits? What if we tested the waters, like a short term thing? A trial run? Just until we went on the road?
And just see where it went from there?
I started imagining other possible outcomes, better outcomes, to past events. Like, what if I’d been more open with them from the start? What if I’d been open with Ash about my feelings when he pressed me? What if I’d been honest?
Would it have made a difference?
Could it still make a difference, if I told them how I felt now?
