Chapter Four - 4. The Fight
CHAPTER FOUR
The Fight
In the end, we never got another drink. Once we arrived downstairs and saw the line for the bar snaked all the way outside, Taylor and I exchanged a look and I yelled out to Matty, who’d been swept up into a group of guys from soccer, that we were heading off.
“Already?” he called back, putting a thumbs down and sticking his tongue out. “Alright then. But hey, if you ever need girl advice, you know who to come to, yeah?”
I made a vague affirmative noise, not daring to check Taylor’s reaction, and we left the oppressive heat and noise of Jacko. Neither of us spoke as we crossed over the lawn and down the red brick paths.
Once we entered the 407, Taylor turned to the door, locking it. He seemed to vibrate with palpable waves.
“Talia, huh?” he said to the door.
“I’m sorry. Matty obviously knew I was seeing someone and so I made up this random girl —”
“You couldn’t just say it was me?” Taylor asked, turning around.
“Fuck no. Imagine what he’d think.” I frowned at him. “What, are you upset I didn’t tell him I’m fucking you?”
“No,” Taylor said. “I don’t want him to know. I don’t want anyone to know.”
Gee, thanks. I stamped down the pang of hurt. “Then what’s the problem?” I asked.
“The problem,” Taylor said, “is now he thinks you’ve got some chick on the side when you don’t.”
“So what? She isn’t real.”
“The problem,” Taylor repeated, speaking over me, “is that you told him all the stuff we did. That stuff was supposed to be between us.”
“Are you embarrassed?”
“You’re not the one who was in a fucking French maid costume!” he said, shoving a hand through his hair.
“I thought you didn’t mind it.” My voice was small. Yeah, he’d made a big fuss when I’d bought the cheap polyester dress, but he’d still put in on and then sucked my dick. The idea that I’d forced him to do something he didn’t want to do made me feel ill.
“I didn’t mind it when no one else knew,” Taylor said. “It’s not even about the costume thing. Or the handcuffs thing.”
“Or the collar thing,” I said. “Which you were about to tell him.”
“I wasn’t actually going to tell him. I was just making a point. Imagine how you’d feel if I told him that I fucked you so hard you cried.”
“I didn’t tell him it was you,” I retorted, feeling myself flush all the way down my chest. I couldn’t tell whether I felt angry or ashamed.
Taylor bit the inside of his cheek. “I want what we do to be private,” he said eventually.
Ashamed. I definitely felt ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I said, and it felt awful apologising to Taylor of all people, and worse, knowing I’d really fucked up. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why I did. I…I wanted to brag, I guess.”
“To brag?”
“I was a virgin until a few weeks ago, remember? It’s new to me that someone wants me that way.” Not just anyone. You. “And…it made me feel cool and special and Matty looked at me like I was amazing. I know it’s lame,” I mumbled.
Taylor was quiet. Did he ever feel special for getting to fuck me? Probably not.
“Why do you care what other people think of you?” Taylor asked.
I threw my hands in the air. Was he serious? “You literally humiliated me for being a virgin.”
“I wouldn’t say that to anyone else.”
“Right, just me. Because you’re such a saint.”
“I just don’t understand why you feel you need to prove yourself to other people. You’re — you’re already —” he looked down. “Fuck.”
It was rare to see Taylor stumble over his words, but I wasn’t in the mood to find it amusing. I walked over and collapsed on the couch. My stomach twisted, because I knew the other shoe was going to drop.
Taylor looked at me from all the way on the other side of the room. For a second, it looked like he might not say anything at all. Then: “you went through my phone.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to —” I cut myself off, because that was a lie. Sure, I didn’t mean to spend several minutes scrolling through your camera roll.
“Matty thinks Talia’s in love with you.”
“I didn’t tell him that,” I said immediately.
“I didn’t mean to tell him about the photos either either, but what am I supposed to think?
” My voice rose higher with defensiveness.
“Someone has all these photos of me so I’m understandably confused.
And then I mention it to Matty, and he’s all like, oh, she’s got feelings.
Which obviously I didn’t take seriously —”
“Why not?” Taylor interrupted.
I stared at him. “What do you mean, why not? Because it’s you.” He didn’t reply and I panicked because shit, was this him actually saying…? “Are you even capable?” I blurted out.
Taylor’s jaw tightened, but the next moment, his expression had smoothed out. He walked over and sat on the couch next to me, legs spread.
“You must think I’m psychotic,” he murmured to his lap.
“Eh. It’s flattering.”
“I’m fully aware it’s insane. I guess I’ve just…” he swallowed. “Desired you for a long time.”
I never thought I’d find desired such a ugly word. What had I been hoping for?
I forced the corners of my mouth to turn up. “Everyone does crazy things when they’re horny,” I said.
Taylor’s shoulders relaxed and relief flooded through me, sweet like a refreshing drink on a summer’s day.
“Listen,” I said, pulling my feet up onto the couch.
“I’m really sorry about all of it. Looking through your phone and talking to Matty and the whole Talia thing.
Please don’t be angry with me.” My voice came out quiet, like a child’s.
“I’m not angry.” He took my hand and uncurled it, so my palm was facing up. His thumb rubbed over my wrist like he was trying to wipe away something invisible. “Next time you run into Matty, tell him you broke up with Talia.”
“Is an imaginary casual girlfriend that big of a deal?”
“Yes,” Taylor said simply. He leaned forward, intruding in my space. “And don’t tell anyone about the stuff we do. Those details only belong to us.”
I nodded quickly. “Okay.”
He tilted his head and kissed me, lips barely brushing mine, and my entire body sank into it.
I felt like a series of tight knots that had been suddenly unravelled.
My hands landed in his hair, trying to touch as much of him as possible.
My fingers trailed down his neck, his skin warm and soft, and down the breadth of his back, past his hips, until I reached rustling plastic.
Taylor tugged at the garbage bag. “Fuck this fucking thing.” He said, tearing it to strips and letting it fall to the floor, so he was left in nothing but black boxers.
I reached for my own costume, but Taylor grabbed my wrists, stopping me. “Don’t. You look like a god.”
“It’s a bedsheet,” I said, but I was smiling.
“I want to fuck you in it.” He kissed my neck. He wanted me. He still wanted me.
“Freak,” I managed.
“At least I’m not making you wear a maid costume.”
I laughed, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him into my bedroom.
It was the day of the ball committee speeches, and that morning, I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realise my class had ended until all of my classmates were screeching out of their chairs and rushing out the door.
I hurriedly packed up my things, and when I saw the crowd by the elevators, I opted to take the stairs to the ground floor.
I was walking straight for the building’s exit when a figure in my periphery made me stop short.
He was speaking to a group of students with his arms crossed, a cap pulled down low so I couldn’t see his eyes, but I definitely knew it was Taylor from the way he held himself.
Sensing my gaze on him, he suddenly looked up.
He ducked his head, murmured something to the group, made a few lazy hand gestures, then walked over to me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. He didn’t have his backpack with him, so he wasn’t here to study. I looked over his shoulder for the group of students, but they’d already dispersed into the crowd. “And who were you talking to?”
“Just asking for directions,” he said. “I’m here for you. Your speech is now, isn’t it?”
My nerves came back in full force. I checked the time on my phone. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Come on, it’s in the business school.”
Despite my rushing, Taylor easily matched my speed, and once we arrived at the business school, he followed me into a random bathroom.
I changed out of my casual clothes for the nice button-up shirt, slacks, and leather shoes I’d packed.
When I fussed over the fold wrinkles in the clothing, Taylor tried smoothing it out with his palms.
“No one’s going to be looking closely,” he said. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great.”
I peered up at him. “You really came to watch me?” I thought he’d have been sick of listening to me talk. I’d practiced my speech in front of him six times last night.
“Of course.” He said it like it wasn’t a big deal, but it made my heart feel too big for my chest.
“That kind of makes me more nervous,” I said with a little laugh. “I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of you.”
“You won’t. You couldn’t.” He said it so confidently. “Come on.”
A lecture theatre had been booked for the speeches, and to my surprise, there was quite an audience in the seats.
I thought the room would be mostly applicants and committee members, but it looked like a lot of CSS members were there just to vote.
Taylor’s hand grazed my back, then he headed up the stands.
I watched him go and saw more than a few students staring at him.
They were checking him out, I supposed. What had I said to Matty? Prettiest girl on campus.
I took a seat in the front row and exchanged a tight smile with the first years sitting on either side of me.
The lecture theatre doors shut and Lauren appeared behind the lectern to explain the process.
A few minutes later, the first candidate stepped up on stage, looking as poised as a politician.
Time flew by. I kept checking how many people were ahead of me, then squeezing my eyes shut and mouthing the words to my own speech.
Sometimes I tried to focus on what my competitors were saying, but they were all so articulate and confident that it only intimidated me and shit shit shit it was one thing to be notable in high school, and another to be in university where everyone was just as clever and hard-working, if not more so.
My knees felt weak when it was my turn to walk on stage. The lights bearing down on me were too bright. I gazed out at the crowd and realised that a lot of the students looked bored as hell.
I swallowed. My throat felt as dry as a desert.
Don’t fuck this up, Archie.
My eyes found Taylor. He was sitting a few rows from the back, and his mouth lifted in a little smile. He looked completely certain that everything would be fine, and that reassured me.
I sucked in a shaky breath and spoke.
I was still in a daze, half an hour later, when the last of the speeches had wrapped up.
Lauren got up behind the lectern again and reminded the audience to vote via the survey link provided and that results would be published in a week’s time.
As soon as it was over, there was an avalanche of people flooding out the double doors.
I got up, feeling my legs wobble beneath me.
Someone patted me on the arm. It was Lauren, telling me well done, and I stuttered out a thanks.
Around me, other applicants fell into deep discussions dissecting their odds. I only half listened, eyes moving listlessly around the room.
“Hey.” Taylor appeared in front of me, hands in his pockets. He shot me a smile.“You did great.”
I couldn’t help but grin back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He shifted his weight, rocking his feet forward and back, and I wanted him to touch me. Not to kiss me, obviously, but maybe to hug me. Except we didn’t hug each other. He could’ve offered a fist bump, but that would feel as formal as a handshake, and just as alienating.
In the end, he bumped his shoulder against mine as we left the room. “Wanna get something to eat? My shout.”
“I can’t say no to that,” I replied, hoping I was doing a good job of disguising the pleasure unfurling low in my belly.
We found a quiet cafe nearby, and ordered hot chocolates and ham and cheese toasties. Outside, grey frothy clouds began to drizzle rain, and students walking to and from class began to run, holding their thousand-dollar laptops above their heads as makeshift umbrellas.
“— stupid not to choose you,” Taylor was saying.
I turned to him. “You really think that?”
“Would I ever bullshit you?”
I huffed a laugh. “Thanks for coming.”
I thought he’d say something dismissive like, I had nothing better to do. Instead he shrugged. “I wanted to.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I took a long sip of my hot chocolate.
Taylor’s eyes fell on my mouth and he let out a soft laugh. “You’ve got a moustache.” He gestured to his own face.
I went hot. “Oh —”
“I’ll get it,” he said, reaching over with a tissue. I went still as he wiped my upper lip, like one wrong move and I’d get a paper cut. After he was done, he leaned back in his chair, scrunching up the tissue, and smiled at me.
“I think we should get tested,” I said.