"Hey, Skye!" Taylor's voice nearly shouted.
"Hey, Tay," Skye said, smoothing her voice out. She didn't want him to know how edgy she was about talking to him.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I'm getting ready for a date," she told him, resuming her hair-curling activities.
"Really? With who?" he asked.
"Randy," she said. "You know, the football player?"
"Oh," he said more softly. "I didn't know you were going out on a date."
"I don't tell you everything, Tay," Skye told him. Taylor winced at the sting in her words. So I've noticed, he thought embittered.
"Well, I guess I don't tell you everthing either," he snapped back snottily.
"Oh," Skye said, knowing she'd hurt his feelings. "I've been thinking...maybe we should...spend some time...apart from each other."
Taylor was flabbergasted. "B...b...but why?"
"It's like...I don't know. Taylor, did you know people think we've been sleeping together since we were in junior high?"
"This bothers you?" Taylor asked incredulously, trying to joke about his so-called "monstrous ego".
Skye chortled softly, but slowly stopped. "Yes, really, it does. I don't care how big a star you were for so long. I just want to be...Skye for a while. Not Hanson's little chick friend."
"Nobody ever thought of you like that."
"Taylor, EVERYONE thought that," she nearly whimpered. Just then, her doorbell rang.
"God, Tay, I'm sorry. But Randy's here," she said into the phone. "Bye."
"Bye," Taylor said. As he hung up, he felt a new hurt in his heart. Little did he know that as Skye turned off her curlers and took a last glance in the mirror, she realized that her mascara was running down her cheeks. She felt it, too.
