Reality Bites

"Ohhh..." I groaned softly, rolling over drowsily. The smooth, satin sheets felt so nice against my arms, but something also felt a little odd. Running my fingers down my sides, I frowned, for I was touching nothing but my bare skin.

Well, that's different. After a little more roaming of my fingers, I was more than alarmed to discover that I was stark naked. Petrified, actually.

Not even socks? My eyes still closed, I raised my knee to grab my ankle. Guess not.

Rolling back onto my back, I yawned, stretching my arms and legs while wiggling my fingers and toes to get the kinks out. I had no clue what time it actually was, but it actually felt like I'd slept wonderfully for about ten years. Strangely, the tips of my fingers brushed against something else that was quite smooth, though warm, not cool like the sheets.

That might be worth actually cracking open the eyes for.. I thought as whatever I brushed my fingers against stirred slightly. What the-

"AHHH!!!" Recoiling my hand as if I'd touched a venomous snake, my biggest fear in life, I screamed right into Taylor's sleeping face.

What the hell is he doing here!?

"Huh? What-" Taylor mumbled, sounding just as drowsy as I'd felt a few seconds earlier. On the contrary, I was quite awake now, let me assure you. Glancing down at my nakedness again, I flopped over and over in my spot, coiling the sheets around me. Unfortunately, as I collected them, I was also yanking them away from Taylor, revealing that not only was he wearing just as me, but also had the whitest ass I've probably ever seen. Not that there was a long list of candidates, but I feared the image was going to be permanently engrained into memory. It certainly deserved another scream.

"AHHH!!!" Yanking with all my strength on the sheets, I clenched my eyes tightly shut, praying this was a horrible nightmare. One that I could wake up from any minute... any minute now..

"What the hel-" Taylor started to say when interrupted by a large thump, then absolute silence. Curiousity getting the best of me, I cracked open my right eye. Surprisingly, I found myself sitting in the middle of the honeymoon suite's bed, sheets coiled around me like cotton candy around it's, well, cardboard stick. Fortunately, though, I was completely alone.

"Oh thank goodness," I flopped back down on the bed, limbs sprawled in every direction, feeling extremely relieved. "It was all a dream. One extremely, hellishly-bad dream."

"Another nightmare, Maggie?" Taylor's head popped up over the side of the bed, scaring the bejezus out of me.

"Ohmygawd!" I just about jumped out of my skin before curling into a fetal position. ".. Taylor?"

"Who else would put up with this kind of 'Good Morning'? from you?" He asked grumpily, yawining and rubbing his left eye distractedly with the back of his hand.

"Sorry, you scared me." I smiled sheepishly.

"How do you think I felt when you threw me out of bed?" At least he returned my smile, but mine had long since faded, for he now appeared to be standing up. Grasping the sheets at the edge of the bed, he got about halfway up, his navel rising into my view when -

"Taylor stop!" I screamed, clamping my hand tightly over my eyes, the other cluching the sheets tightly to my chest. "Stop right there.. don't move a puny muscle."

"Why?" I didn't feel any further tugging against the sheets, so I guessed that at least he'd obligued.

"Please, please, please tell me you're wearing pants."

"Nope sorry, Babe." His voice had a coy note in it. Shit..

"Boxers?" He chuckled slightly.

"Nope." Double shit..

"Briefs?" The chuckling continued.

"Tightie-whities?" I'd even settle for that, I realized, as the chuckling deepened into laughter.

"Nope." Triple shit..

"A thong?"

"My girlfriend won't buy one.. so nope." Oh dear.

"Well, for God's sake, put some damn pants on then!!" I demanded, my hand still clamped over my eyes. Well, that certainly put a stop to the laughter.

"Are you sure?"

"Just please put some pants on NOW!"

"Ok, ok, hold on." I practically heard his eyes roll into the back of his head, but at least I heard a reassuring sound of a suitcase zipper and a few grunts as he struggled to comply.

"Are you decent?" I asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Don't worry, it's safe. No more birthday suit."

"Good," I peered through a slit in my fingers, sighing at the site of him a familiar pair of green and navy plaid-patterned pair of flannel pants. Aunt Claire had sewn them for him not two days ago, including an extra amount of elastic around the ankles to 'keep out the draft,' as she'd put it.

"Are you all right?" He asked me, stretching his arms above his head, revealing a couple of bony-looking ribs and one pasty-white chest with about three blonde hairs growing out of it.

"No!" I spat harshly. "Close your eyes."

"Maggie," he dropped his arms, staring at me. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

"Just close your eyes." I snapped, dropping my hand in front of my face. "Now."

"Is this another game of yours? I could go for that again.." Closing his eyes, he grinned wickedly and crossed his arms over his chest. Me however, my jaw dropped.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Jordan Taylor Hanson, but you're treading on very thin water!" Climbing on my knees and clutching the sheets tenaciously, I waded through a mess of tangled blankets and our plush comforter. Goosebumps prickled the pads of my feet as they touched the cool tiles on the floor, but I ignored the tingling sensation.

Something is terribly, terribly wrong.. and it's never going to be the same. I tiptoed around Taylor and waddled toward the bathroom. After slamming and locking the door behind me, I realeased the sheets, letting them pool around my ankles. Glaring into about a thousand images of my body in the four walls of mirrors, I silently cursed every reflection.

Twenty minutes later..

"Maggie?" Taylor rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door as softly as his voice called. Again, I ignored him, not even glancing from my sitting position in the shower. I'd sat here, my elbows resting atop my knees and face in my hands, ever since slamming the door on him, but now tears streamed down my cheeks and my back heaved with soft sobs I prayed he didn't hear. Not even the scalding hot water could wash away the dirt I felt all over my skin.

"Maggie, please." He knocked again.

"Go away!" I yelled, hoping my voice didn't tremble as much as it felt like it wanted to. Lowering my head to my chest, I watched as my hair curled with the water running down my shoulders. To put it simply, I felt like absolute scum as memories of last night flooded back into my memory.

"Taylor..." Not being able to hold back anymore, I pushed him roughly against our hotel room door, kissing him deeply and running my hands everywhere it was possible for them to touch.

"M-phm, Maggie," He laughed, pulling away as I continued nibbling at the soft flesh in his neck. "Hold on for a second, let me get the door at least."

"Sorry," I grinned knowingly, my lips exploring every inch between his collar and jaw. "I don't know what it is, I just can't help myself."

"Well, no complaints here, but just hold on."

"All right," I pretended to pout.

"Promise?" He brushed the tip of my nose with his thumb. I nodded.

"Promise." As he turned to slip the room key into the lock, I firmly grabbed both of his buttcheeks in my hands.

"Hey now!" The move definitely surprised him, as he swatted away my hands. "You promise!"

"You said hold on, so I held on," I explained defensively, giggling like a school girl.

"Maggie, please," Taylor tried again, "Don't shut me out like this."

"I said go.. away." I rubbed the base of my palms into my eye sockets, releasing another round of built-up sobs. What have I done?

"M-Maggie," Taylor broke away from our kisses to gasp for air. My hands were instantly on the knot in his tie, loosening it from his neck and using it to pull him closer toward me.

"Yes, Sweetie?" I gently brushed my lips against his, pausing slightly on his parted lower lip. His eyes stared intently at me, further sending this burning feeling through me.

"You don't know how much I've wanted-"

"Shh," I placed my finger over his lips, silencing him. "We'll talk later."

Despite my misery, I couldn't help but wonder why I only remember bits and pieces of this mess. Probably the less I remembered, the better.. for the moment, the more I knew, the more miserable I was feeling.

"Oh God," I whispered. "Please forgive me."

"Oh God!" Every part of this felt good.. felt right. Even the weight of him on top of me felt as comfortable as a fuzzy blanket in winter, as his arms circled around my arched lower back. Every movement, even small and slight, sent delightful shivers everywhere, releasing small sighs of surprise and happiness from my lips. Those beautiful eyes blazing, Taylor suddenly sat up, grabbed my shoulders and said in a hushed voice:

"Maggie- I ordered us room service."

"Huh?" I shook my head. That wasn't part of it.. though big surprise if food isn't a turn-on of mine.

"Maggie, knowing you, you're probably hungry." Taylor's muffled voice continued from the other side of the bathroom door. "It's not like we didn't build up an appetite last night either."

"No thank you." I muttered firmly to my feet, which were quite prunish-looking at the moment. I'd probably win a wrinkle-contest against Nana at this point, but there was no way in hell I was coming out of this bathroom.

"What?"

"I said no thank you!" I snapped, clenching my fists tightly. Truth was, I was really mad at myself, but Taylor seemed like a good moral punching bag at the moment.

"All right, you asked for it. I'm coming in whether you like it or not." Glancing up at the rattling of the bathroom doorknob, ironically the first thing I saw was his backside -still clothed, thank goodness- coming intoo the bathroom.

"Whew! Steamy in here." All it took was a turn of his waist, the view of a silver platter in one hand and a metal coat-hanger in the other. Ordinarily, a platter filled with scrambled eggs, french toast, and muffins would make my mouth water and heart melt, but now it just seemed to drive a steak into my chest. Rubbing my hands up over my face, I clenched locks of my hair tightly between my fingers and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Must be my hot girlfriend," Taylor continued cheerfully.

Apparently he hasn't noticed that I'm upset, I groaned inwardly. At least he's still dense.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you'd like to look at it, it didn't take much to catch his attention.

"Get out," I whispered inaudibly. "Please."

"Maggie... Babe, what's wrong?" Catching the first glimpse of me, Taylor immediately set the tray on the sink counter, then walked over to the shower where I still sat curled under the water. I barely noticed as he reached in front of me and turned it off, tears still streaming down my cheeks alongside leftover drops in my hair. I leaned away from him as something fluffy was wrapped across my shoulders, gasping with soft sobs as Taylor patted my back with the towel.

"Hey," he said softly, kneeling in front of the bathtub and rubbing my left arm. "It's ok."

"It is not ok." Raising my bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks, I stared into his concerned eyes and yanked my arm away. "And it will never be... ok."

"Ok.. brace yourself, Honey. Big decision time," Sarah grinned at her husband, holding up two options. "Apples or oranges?"

"Doesn't matter," Ike smiled at her over the mounds of produce. "Neither is as sweet as my wife."

"Isaac Hanson, I do believe you like the sound of that." She returned the smile, realizing it was her decision, so apples it was. She hummed a nameless tune while scanning over the yellowy golden delicious brand, her fingers tracing the pile for the perfect ones.

"I do, but if I knew you were going to take that long, I'd have said both." Ike sighed. "We've been here forever."

"It's not been forever, just.." Sarah glanced at her watch and groaned. "Uhh, two hours. Can I help it if I don't want the bruised ones?"

"Is it really worth the effort?" He asked, smiling and leaning onto the cart. "The checkout girl is just going to drop them onto the scale anyways."

"Well, forgive me for caring." Her husband's comment deserved a dirty look, so Sarah sent him one.

"Now don't be like that," he smiled, pushing the cart around to her side of the apple cart. "That would ruin our momentous occasion."

"Momentous occasion?" Sarah echoed, sliding a few apples into a plastic bag, then spinning it so she could knot the end.

"We sure know how to have fun on a Saturday morning. Taylor and Maggie are living it up in Toronto (Little did they know how much fun we weren't having at the moment either.), and we get a trip to Costco's."

"Well, it is our first time." Ike replied with a grin. "Grocery shopping together, I mean."

"Yes dear," Sarah rolled her eyes. "And the three hundred rolls of toilet paper we're in desperate need of too."

"Forget about the one-hundred and four tampons you picked up on aisle seven?" He retorted, his brown eyes twinkling mischieviously. "Forget an even hundred, it's those extra four that make it such a bargin!"

"And which one of us got five pairs of brown corduroy pants?" Sarah looked pointedly at the stack of them in the cart. "At least I'll be able to hear where you are when your thighs rub together, but couldn't you have gotten at least more than one color?"

"Men are simple." Stating the obvious, Ike felt the need to defend his wardrobe selection. "We like to be comfortable. I spend all week in a monkey suit for work now that school's out, so on the weekends I like to relax."

"So that's why you wear the t-shirts with armpit stains and hole-y sweatpants." Sarah smiled teasingly. "I was wondering about the logic behind that outfit."

"Better than the Granny-style undies you wear whenever you need those," Ike pointed to the tampons, being extremely careful not to actually touch them.

"Isaac," Sarah stopped the playful banter and smiled. "Have we passed the point of knowing too much information about each other?"

"I think that'd be.." Isaac pretended do give the idea some thought. "About three weeks ago, when I first saw you use one of the.. you know, feminine things. Or maybe when you made me take you to the gynecologist."

"You went to the obstetrician's with me." Sarah glanced at him surprised. With Emily..

"Completely different." He replied stubbornly. "Now, if we can stop talking about doctor's who's job it is to look, umm.. down there, I'm going back to looking cute while pushing the cart."

"No argument here, Honey. Something about the way you take turns on two wheels." Sarah smiled, plopping the apples into the cart and happier for the change of subject. As her fingers released them, she couldn't help but notice:

"You sure picked up a lot of food," Sarah's didn't see many healthy food items in there either. "Meatloaf, chicken, seafood.. I can't believe you're going to cook all of this in a week."

"Me?" Isaac stared at her. "You.. think I'm going to cook?"

"Well.. yes," frowning, she glanced up at him. "What did you expect?"

"Well," he started, "You're the wife, aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't that your... " Isaac searched for the right word. "Job?"

"My job!?" Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Am I supposed to do all the cleaning too?"

"Yeah, but you haven't exactly done a very good job lately on tha-" Isaac cut himself off, but it was a bit too late.

"Why didn't you tell me you had these expectations?" Sarah practically roared, her fists clenched tightly. Of all the nerve!

"Honey, shh.." Glancing around the produce section, he noticed a few questionable glances from their fellow Saturday morning shoppers. "We'll talk about it at home."

"We'll talk about it right here, what are you ashamed of?" She knew she was starting to test his limits, but now was as good of a time as any, she realized, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Honey." Isaac repeated his plea. "This isn't the best time."

"Oh, so now I need to wait until it's a good time for you, do I?" Sarah's voice rose in pitch with each word. "Then I'll just wait out in the car until you decide when we can talk to each other, how do you like the sound of that?"

"Not bad at the moment," although it was meant as a joke, it sure was an ill-timed one. Grabbing her purse from the kiddie-seat in the shopping basket, Sarah flounced out of the store in a huff.

"I can't believe it," she grumbled, forcing open the grocery store doors. "Why did I marry that sexist, pig-headed,-"

"Excuse me Ma'am, would you like to buy some cookies?" A small girl, around eight years old, asked her brightly from behind a stack of Girl Scout cookies.

"No!" Sarah screeched, marching off to the car. Unfortunately, when she got there, she realized one embarrassing fact: Ike was carrying the car keys. Sighing, she leaned against the front passenger side door, wishing that they hadn't climbed out of bed this morning.

"Well, I hope you're happy." Isaac threw his wife a disapproving look as he popped open the trunk of their small SUV.

"No, I'm not." She admitted quietly.

"Thanks to you, we are now the proud owners of thirty-five boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Hope you like Thin Mints."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah walked to the back of the car, staring at the stack of cookie boxes in their cart. It was almost as many rolls of toilet paper they'd bought.

"I had to buy all of them, after you made the girl cry. Hope it was worth it." He started piling the grocery bags into the back.

"It wasn't.. I'm sorry, Ike." Sarah grabbed his arm as he reached for another bag. He softened his hard look.

"I am too," Sighing, he opened his arms and wrapped her in a soft hug, before going back to loading the groceries into the car. At least she helped him this time.

"I guess it was something that we hadn't talked about yet, but Mom always did that stuff at our house." Isaac said after a few seconds of silent packing.

"Did you want to marry me, or your Mom?" Sarah had a good point.

"You.. To be best of my memory, Mom never dressed up in a-"

"Ok, that's enough," she cut him in mid-sentence. "For that, you're carrying all the groceries upstairs when we get home."

"Apartment sweet apartment." After slamming the door shut, Ike sent her a suggestive grin. "You know, if that was our first big fight, we should have our first make-up session, if you wear your-"

"Consider it done. Just put the cart back first." Sarah laughed heartily as he practically sprinted to the cart return. Nevertheless, this was a future conversation she was already dreading.