More than just a friend || Roger Taylor

8- The boy in green

15th February 1978

It wasn't my intention to spend as much time with Roger as I did, but like almost everything between me and him, it was practically fate it worked that way.

We both had busy schedules, so considering he was waiting for his next tour date to be confirmed, and I was going on a day to day basis of my next job, it was considered quite impressive how often we were in one another's company.

Nothing changed between us either. He was just a friend, and no one knew about me and him. Sometimes it surprised me how we'd managed to avoid the press as well as we did, but it stayed secret from the public's eyes.

The two of us were undeniably wrapped up in one another, completely smitten by the other but not wanting to admit it. That was the only thing dangerous about being supposed friends, is that when one thought they were catching something for the other they tried to push it away. And that's what was happening.

I woke up in his bed that morning, his jumper from the night before covering my torso. We'd spent the night at his place, drinking what he had in as he rambled on about how much he hated going to tour, and I complained about the meeting I had with Mel the following afternoon.

He's surprisingly already escaped from the other side of the bed, explaining why I'd woken up quite literally sprawled across the covers. I got up and stretched out dramatically, taking a glance around the room and through the balcony doors, not managing to find Roger's frame.

I slowly padded down the hall, soon walking down the stairs when I heard Rogers voice talking to someone I assumed was over the phone. He was in the kitchen, just in a pair of black joggers, leaving his torso perfectly exposed as the phone sat pressed against his ear.

"I'll talk to you later, see you soon." He mumbled, smiling at me before quickly pressing the phone back down. I took a seat at the kitchen table, lighting a cigarette as he took his mug in his hands and sat opposite me.

"Who was that ?"

"Old friend. Wants to catch up before we go on out next tour. Still don't know when exactly we leave. They've started selling tickets for around April time." He shrugged, taking a drag from my cigarette once I'd passed it to him. He seemed tense, embarrassed slightly, and certainly not appreciative that I'd heard a glimpse of his phone call. I didn't know why, though I did find out much later on, but he didn't seem to like me knowing certain things. Things I thought were quite normal and simple too.

"Did you sleep alright ?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, your bed is literally so comfy compare to mine... I think it's those pillows or something." I smiled, earning a small chuckle from him as he sipped his drink, which I assumed was the usual cup of coffee he had in the mornings.

"I love the way you say pillows with your accent." He laughed, smirking slightly as I shook my head. "It's a good thing by the way..."

"Have you got a thing for girls with accents ? Seems like you always go for them. Not a fan of British girls or something ?" He shrugged, laughing slightly as I took another drag from the stick between my fingers.

"Coincidence I think. That's all." Roger paused. "What times that meeting you've got then ?"

"12." I glanced at the clock, and then back at him as his features grew into a slight playfulness. "You've got me for another hour."

"Well... it'll only take twenty minutes for you to get ready, five for you to have a cigarette at some point, and ten for me to drive you there... and if I'm right, that leaves twenty five minutes of spare time." He smirked as I rolled my eyes, his eyes telling me exactly what he had planned as my cheeks glowed red.