t & j [one shots]

paris is for lovers (III)

Taylor takes one look at the indigo eyes beating back at her and almost feels her heart collapse. She drops the stupid banana she's been holding and bolts out the sliding glass doors.

Of course, just Taylor's luck, she forgets she's still holding a basket full of unpaid items. The alarms immediately start blaring and two security guards hurl themselves at Taylor's feet.

"Ma'am stop right there!"

Taylor freezes in the middle of the parking lot, hears cars start to honk, frustrated by the minor traffic jam she's causing. Taylor doesn't even register the horns or the eyes staring her down. The voices ringing in her ears drown out all of the commotion.

"You can't just walk out of the store without paying," the older security guard shouts. He grabs Taylor by her sleeve and drags her back into the store.

It's only now that Taylor realizes that she has hot tears cascading down her face. What her mother coined as her body's fire extinguisher.

"I know that," Taylor replies shakily, her blood still boiling from her recent encounter in Aisle #13. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her credit card with trembling hands. "I just forgot."

The security guards exchange a look that Taylor can't decipher, but she's certain that she looks like a crazed woman with her unruly bangs and smeared mascara. Hell, heavy metal music is still blaring out of the earbuds dangling from her neck. Not her finest moment for sure.

"Just bring your card up to the register," the ginger grouses. "Our manager will be there shortly to meet with you."

***

"I will never grocery shop at Tesco again!" Taylor heaves, slamming the front door as she enters the living room. The last forty-five minutes have been absolute hell.

"Mkay," Adam mumbles, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

"Aren't you going to ask why?" Taylor rasps.

Adam sighs heavily. "Fine, why, my love?"

"They accused me of shoplifting, that's why!"

"Why would they accuse you of that?" Adam gasps. Now Taylor has his full attention.

"I just ran out the door without paying and all of these guys were on my ass," she explains.

"Taylor, why the fuck would you do that? Jesus," Adam spits.

Taylor just shakes her head and massages her temple. She's still gripping her keys tightly, hasn't even stepped out of the entryway. "I don't know, I just had to get out of there."

Maybe it's the adrenaline that has yet to leave her system or maybe it's the way that the modern art lining the walls and WSJ magazines stacked on the coffee table fail to calm her nerves the way a home should- but whatever the reason, Taylor adds fervently, "I have to get out of here too."

***

Taylor's staying at the Corbigoe Hotel, which according to Trivago was named one of the cheapest hotels in London.

She should really be getting her own place by now. It's been two weeks after all. But finding affordable housing in London is easier said than done. For now, she'll have to stick out the Cup O' Noodle dinners and scratchy hotel sheets for a little while longer. 

She's sipping her crappy cup of instant coffee in the lobby, glancing up at the flickering chandelier when it hits her. For the first time in months, she knows exactly where she's supposed to be.