Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
T en years ago, I spent half a day agonizing over what I should wear to one of Taylor’s basketball games.
Tonight, I get to decide what I’m going to wear on our very first date. Or third, apparently.
Shoved in the back of my closet are all the lingerie-inspired pieces I packed for my stay at the Havens. I run a finger down a silky babydoll dress before turning away. The outfit I end up throwing on my bed is my favorite vintage tee and a loose-fitting skirt.
Tonight, I want to feel like myself. Not the polished version of me I contrived to fit in with the Havens. Not the confident persona Rose helped me curate. I want Taylor to see the true me—the one that’s clumsy and sometimes shy and always over-thinking. After all we’ve been through, honesty is the least I can do.
I peek outside my bedroom window, a little thrill running through me when I spot his car pulling up to my apartment. I reach for my phone, shooting him a text saying I’ll be right down.
I take a second to check my appearance, fluffing my hair in the mirror. I don’t have Rose’s talent for makeup, but I like how I look with a little mascara and blush. Best of all, I’ve stained my lips a cherry red. A shade I hope Taylor will find so irresistible he’ll want to lick it right off.
He’s leaning against his car when I make it downstairs, dressed in an outfit that mirrors my own. But I have never seen a plain white tee and jeans look so good on anyone else. He peers up at me from under the brim of his baseball cap, a blinding smile stretching across his face. My steps falter when I meet his eyes. He’s gazing at me in a way that feels brand new. I’m not entirely sure why until I pause in front of him.
Taylor holds up a finger, stopping me before I can speak. “I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for that day,” he begins in a low voice. “It was the last game of the season, the last game I knew I’d ever play. Coach had been running us ragged; I’d just learned I hadn’t gotten a scholarship to my dream school. It was shaping up to be a pretty shitty day. And then a girl with the biggest, brightest brown eyes I’d ever seen called my name. She told me she baked me something, and she was so shy, so sweet. I thought about her all practice long. Wondered who she was, if I’d get to learn her name. I thought about finding her after the game, asking for her number.”
I stare at Taylor, the sound of my heartbeat ringing in my ears. He really does look different today. This outfit he’s donned is straight out of my high school daydreams. With the loose fit of his clothes and a baseball hat hiding his unruly hair, he really could be the boy from ten years ago. A Taylor from the past, coming back to rewrite our history.
“Things didn’t go the way I thought they would,” he continues with a laugh. “But I never got to tell that girl what her kindness meant to me.” He holds out a hand, waiting until I take it. He gives our clasped palms a firm shake. “So, hi, I’m Taylor. I’m stubborn, standoffish, and care way too much about what people think of me. I hold onto grudges longer than I should, but I’m working on saying exactly what I feel, when I feel it. So if I’m being honest, I forgave you the moment I saw you standing in the Havens’ kitchen, gazing at me with that same shy expression. If I was ever unkind, it was fueled by fear, and perhaps jealousy, but never hate.”
“What are you doing?” I whisper. Taylor can’t possibly know what these words mean to me, how they’re something out of a teenage daydream.
“You told me to be brave,” he whispers, catching my other hand and drawing me close. “If I want to write the stories I hope I will, then I’ll need to get used to wearing my heart on my sleeve. You were on my mind long before you should have been, even when I thought your heart belonged to someone else. I never got the chance to know you ten years ago. I’ll never know what you could have meant to me back then, but I can tell you what you mean to me now.”
He leans down, resting his forehead against mine. I sway in place, feeling intoxicated by his nearness. I don’t know if it’s my racing pulse I hear, or his. But I’m on bated breath, inhaling in short little spurts, until Taylor leans in close.
“I like you, Ayla. I like you a lot. I like fighting with you and competing with you. I like picking your brilliant brain and being put in my place. And most of all, I like making up with you. Will you forgive me for taking so long to tell you the truth?”
I close my eyes. The words echo in my head, repeating again and again. I know Taylor’s waiting for my response, but I have lost all control of my tongue. My nerves are on high alert, sending shivers down my spine every time Taylor’s touch grazes me.
What feels like hours later, I finally open my eyes. Taylor is gazing down at me, brows creased in concern. A nervous laugh skitters up his throat the longer I remain quiet.
“I’m going to assume you feel the same,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what that look means, right? Or, at the very least, I can win you over. I mean, you had that crush on me in high school for a reason ri— wow, that sounds cocky. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m ruining this, aren’t I? Just kill me no—”
I shut him up with a kiss.
Taylor sighs against my lips, like he’s been holding his breath. I pull back, laughing softly when he refuses to open his eyes.
“I like you a lot,” I murmur. “I’ve liked you since you knelt down and helped me stack newspapers when no one else would. I liked you even when you glared at me, especially when I was the only one who could incite a reaction out of you. I’ve liked learning who you really are—sensitive and thoughtful and understanding. And I know I’ll regret admitting it…but, you’re right. I never have been able to shake that teeny tiny high school crush.”
“I knew it,” he whispers.
We pull each other into another kiss, the softest and sweetest conversation we’ve ever had. When Taylor takes a breath, I step out of his arms.
Before he can protest, I ask: “So, are you going to take me on that date, or what?”
Taylor’s hands keep tapping the wheel of his car. He’s beating out an anxious rhythm I find way too cute. He’s been quiet the entire drive, stealing nervous glances at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Where are you taking me?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t you want to be surprised?”
I pretend to think for half a second. “Uh, no. Never.”
Taylor’s laugh has my heart skipping a beat. “Should’ve seen that coming, Okay, back in school, whenever I was feeling down I’d go to this specific theater. At one point, I was watching a movie just about every other day. If things had been different, I’m sure I would’ve taken you there.” He glances over at me and I melt.
I amaze even myself when my voice comes out steady. “I didn’t know you were this cheesy, Hedlund.”
“I’m normally not. You just bring it out of me.”
I look over, allowing myself the chance to study Taylor’s profile. He’s still smiling, shallow dimples creasing his cheeks. He really is beautiful. And not just physically—Taylor is kind and generous and sweet , even if he doesn’t know it. I don’t realize we’ve come to a stop until Taylor clears his throat. My eyes fly up to his, and he’s already staring back at me. We sit in silence for a long moment, surveying each other. His gaze is soft, achingly sweet. I get the impression he doesn’t want to make any sudden movements lest this reverie comes to an end.
“You are unbelievably beautiful,” he whispers, voice reverent.
I shake my head. “Chee-sy,” I murmur back.
Taylor presses a light kiss against my lips before pushing out of his car. I look around, surprised to find I recognize where we are. He’s driven us to a neighborhood close to my old high school. We’re parked on a street lined with small businesses and odd shops, and sure enough, at the corner sits an old movie theater.
Taylor offers me his hand, helping me out of his car. His arm goes around my shoulders, tucking me against his side so naturally I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this all along.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he starts, leading us down the street. “This place is so small they only show one film a night. I hope you like Cruel Intentions. ”
My head snaps to the side. “Wait, have you seen it before?”
“I’ve been going to this place for years, Montes. Their inventory is minimal. I’ve seen the film at least a half-dozen times.”
I freeze in place, unable to wrap my head around this new piece of Taylor lore. “I thought you were the kind of guy who only watched art house flicks and dumb action movies.”
He scolds me with a quick swat to my ass. “Oh, I’m full of surprises, Montes.”
I’m still stunned when Taylor goes to pay for our tickets, greeting the box office attendant like an old friend. He waves at the security officer and winks at one of the people working the concession stand.
“You weren’t kidding,” I say, “you really do come here often, don’t you?”
Taylor doesn’t answer, pushing me toward the candy counter. I don’t even have to skim the items on display before I know what I’m going to order.
“Hi! A box of mints and a red—”
“Can we get some Junior Mints and a cherry—”
We turn to each other, breaking into twin grins. Taylor bites down on his lip, gesturing for me to finish our order.
“Two Junior Mints and two cherry Slurpees, please. And, what the hell, a medium popcorn.” I glance at Taylor who’s giving me a silent round of applause.
“I can’t believe we have the same order,” I say, popping a kernel into my mouth as we head to our theater. “I thought we had nothing in common.”
Taylor nudges my shoulder. “Not true. We both like…breakfast foods. And historical erotica.” It’s my turn to bump into him. “And…each other,” he finishes with a blush.
Cheesy, I mouth. But I can feel heat creeping across my cheeks, and Taylor flashes me a victorious smile.
We’re among a handful of other people in the theater and Taylor guides us to a middle seat in the sixth row. I settle in beside him, an old feeling of anticipation stirring in my gut. I haven’t felt these kinds of butterflies since I sat in high school bleachers, watching a boy I hoped desperately might notice me.
Taylor swipes a handful of popcorn from the box, flashing me an easy grin. I’m tempted to pinch myself, make sure the moment isn’t some vivid daydream. But I can feel the weight of his arm as he hangs it over my shoulders. He strokes his thumb along my collarbone, and there’s no denying the goosebumps he rouses are real.
I relax against Taylor, let his cheek rest atop my head. But as the opening credits roll across the screen, I’m more preoccupied with the rhythm of his heart. I can’t keep my hands to myself, and Taylor doesn’t seem to mind when I reach over, sliding my palm onto his thigh.
I feel his sigh rustle my bangs, and I give him a little squeeze. Taylor responds by dragging a digit down my arm, soothing my skin in long, languorous strokes. I mirror him, running my fingers along his inner thigh. If we were anywhere else, I’d let my hand wander between his strong legs, feel for myself whether he’s as moved by my attention as I am his. I shift in my seat as the movie plays, trying to ignore the first stirrings of arousal.
I watch Taylor adopt a similar strategy. By the time Sebastian seduces Annette, his jaw is clenched tight. He’s pulling me up from my seat the second the credits begin to roll. We practically jog back to his car, our hands threaded together so tight my fingers start to go numb.
We barely make it to his car before Taylor’s backing me against the passenger-side door, lips descending on mine. He kisses me like a dying man, and I’m his salvation. I try to stifle a moan, distinctly aware we’re still in public. Taylor takes a breath and I look longingly over his shoulder at his backseat. He follows my gaze, swallowing a laugh.
“This is ridiculous,” he groans. “You’re making me feel like I’m a teenager again. Seriously, it’s bad. I’m seconds away from asking if you want to go to second base.”
I giggle, knowing exactly what he means. “You still can,” I say lightly. “Isn’t your place close by?”
The smile that lights up Taylor’s face is devastating.