I picked up the squidgy mass of our clothes and carried them into the bathroom. Looking around I saw some of those pathetic little bottles of shampoo. I say pathetic because, unless you had a crew-cut, there was barely enough to cover a gnat's arse. I usually got through at least three of these bottles per wash, and I can imagine Tay'd need the same...even more. Reasoning that, although my hair was matted together with sweat and possibly a bit of cum, I could live with that discomfort rather than being a wasp-magnet for the rest of the day...

Once I'd managed to get the majority of the ice-cream and cola cocktail out, I squeezed as much water out as I could. However, we wouldn't be dry....

"Doesn't matter," said Tay. "The Log Flume's our first stop!"

We checked out of the hotel under escort - the manager called our room and said that there were nigh on a hundred or so Hanson fans clinging round the hotel entrance. "I need to find that radio collar," said Tay as we were practically frog-marched through the kitchens.

"Eh?"

"How else do they find me? Either that or they're telepathic. Ike'd love that one..."

"Oh yeah, how's his book going? I've heard rumours he's supposed to be writing a Sci-Fi story."

"Rumour's are true. I'd say he's about half done. He won't let anyone see it until its finished, but I managed to sneek a look just before we flew over. I was actually thinking about ways to put him down for writing such a shitty story even before I saw it, but I have to admit what I saw was cool..."

We burst through a pair odd double-doors into the blinding English sunshine. It was a beautiful morning, or at least it would be for, ooh let me see, another ten minutes! I still couldn't believe how late we'd slept: I now know where the term 'shagged-out' comes from...

All too soon our day was over and we were back in the air-conditioned luxury of the Range Rover being whisked along the steep, winding roads of Alton. We didn't say much to each other on the trip back to my house - we didn't need to. We simply sat holding hands, our eyes slightly glazed as we both relived the past thirty-six hours.

All too soon, we turned into my driveway, greeted by the manic protestations of my Jack Russell. As I opened the door, Tay pulled at my arm. "Here," he said, his voice croaking slightly. He passed me the photo that the woman had taken of us in the restaurant. I looked back at him - he was crying. My God, had I done this? Had I really had such an impact on him?

I threw my arms wide and he leapt into them like a little kid.

"I'll miss you," I said, it being my turn for the waterworks.

"I'll stay in touch," he sobbed, and this time I could believe it. We kissed quickly and he climbed back into the Range Rover, the V8 burbling back into life. I stood at the end of our drive, waving with my right hand, my left tightly clutching all I had left of him. I watched as the car drove steadily on with Tay leaning out of the back window, the sun catching in his wind-swept hair, waving back at me.

As he disappeared over the slight brow in the road, I looked down at the photo. Turning it over, I discovered the back was crammed tight with Tay's slanting script. It read:

My dearest Dean,
I can't think of any better way to put it. Just know that I will love you forever.
Isn't it weird, Isn't it strange?
Even though we're just two strangers on this runaway train.
We're both trying to find a place in the sun -
'Cause we've lived in the shadows, but doesn't everyone?
Isn't it strange how we all feel a little bit weird sometimes?
Isn't it hard, standing in the rain?
You're on the verge of going crazy and your heart's in pain.
No-one can hear though you're screaming so loud,
You feel all alone in a faceless crowd:
Isn't it strange how we all get a little bit wierd sometimes.
Sitting on the side, waiting for a sign, hoping that my luck'll change:
Reaching for a hand that can understand - someone who feels the same...
When you're living in a cookie-cutter world being different is a sin -
So you don't stand out, and you don't fit in.
Weird.
*Lyrics from "Weird" by Hanson released 1997

I wiped the tears from my eyes and walked back to the house. However, inside I was changed - I knew we'd see each other again. Maybe not as soon as I'd like, but it was inevitable.



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A Date with Taylor Hanson is © 1998 by Dean Lidster. This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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