There was something satisfying about seeing her in my clothes.
Unlike the other times when she'd buy coffee from the shop two doors to the left, she said she'd rather keep her business to herself and she didn't want Keith and Vannie to suspect anything so she prepared the coffee herself.
"I can't go home like this," she said, giving me a cup of coffee. "Okay, we totally outdid it last night."
I haven't talked a lot since this morning so Taylor was the one who is doing the talking for the both of us. Not that I regretted the night before, it's simply a play of my mood. I don't want to talk too much. It's already nine a.m. and I haven't opened my shop yet. It was on purpose, I honestly wouldn't be able to concentrate anything yet.
I still wondered whether she have heard what I said last night. Maybe she really didn't, that or she didn't mind but I set that thought aside because I didn't want to expect too much.
After taking a shower, Taylor borrowed my clothes and prepared us both cups of coffee. Now she's seated on her usual seat while I'm behind my counter. Here we are, dealing with the aftermaths from the night before. My head is a bit still clouded as though it's still asleep. My hair was barely dried off after taking a shower since I'd just gotten out of it, it isn't combed so it was a bit messy. My glasses are somewhere still in the basement but I forgot since we've knocked a few things out of place last night. Contacts was the only option for today.
Taylor, on the other hand, no matter how unnatural was the sight of her wearing my clothes with that kind of hair was still as stunning as ever. She borrowed both my polo and one of my boxer shorts, reasoning out that they're very comfortable so I let her. I could just tell it was the kind of sight I'd love to see for the rest of my life.
"Thank you," I said, after taking a sip from the coffee yet my mind is still at its foggy state. Details around us are very vague for me at the moment.
She stared at me, I know she's observing and of course right after is her in "You're having a heavy day."
"Meaning?"
"Unfocused day," she answered then slightly blew off the steam from her coffee. "You're usually not a distracted person."
And she's taking so much pleasure in seeing her after effects. Amusement was purely visible in her starry, innocent eyes that were otherwise the night before. I licked my lips, remembering how hers was on mine last night. . . I snapped out from it.
I blinked, trying not to make it too obvious. "Not with you around."
"Don't blame it on me." She pouted just a little bit and leaned to me. "You started it," she whispered at almost the same tone as last night's.
"That, I did." I gave her a quick kiss before she laughed. . . and then she asked me if I've seen her camera around.
Hours later, we got back to the basement and settled with reading with journals again —which, we had just arranged back. I finally found my glasses, luckily, it was unscathed. I didn't use it just yet. I simply continued reading the journal I discontinued.
This time, Taylor and I are both on the floor, me facing the bookshelf with my back against the couch while she was at the side, her legs crossing over mine. She would change her position every once in a while, lie down or sit, either way, her legs still cross over mine.
"Harry, your dad talks like you," she said. "Speech patterns and all."
"And we seemed to have no differences at all?"
"Your father wasn't a ladies man."
"Am I?" I quizzed, raising an eyebrow at her.
"You used to be. You said it yourself. You know." She groaned right after. "What date is it today?"
I looked at my watch since I tend to lose track as well. "Sunday, eleventh," I replied. "Why?"
She shrugged, "Nothing. About the reunion? Are you coming?" She asked.
It's funny how the thought of the reunion keeps coming up no matter what the mood or conversation is about. Taylor for one never lets it go even though it is never important for her life.
"I've no idea," I answered tediously, never letting a slight sound of excitement add up as there was completely none of it.
Taylor sat a bit closer, staring into my eyes as if she's trying to look for something that makes my statement a lie but unfortunately, she didn't. "It sounds fun."
"I've told you, I don't like going there. I feel out of place."
"So what? I'll come with you," she said, and I wished she was joking. . . she wasn't.
"You'll miss Christmas with your family, Taylor." I reminded her. Seeing her family in Thanksgiving, how happy they were, I would think their Christmas would be a lot more fun. I would rather spend Christmas with her family.
"Well, I've been spending Christmas with them every year my whole life so it would be nice for a slight change every once in a while," she reasoned out.
"It would be a sad thing to break a tradition, now would it?"
"It would be a sad thing not to try something new," she retorted with a smile. By then, I was no longer paying attention to my dad's journal so I shut it.
"You wouldn't want to spend Christmas with my family, I swear to you," I said, my head getting a bit heavy. I want to head to sleep. I think this is what she feels 24/7 though.
"And you wouldn't want to spend Christmas here alone, do you?"
"Been there, done that," I said. "Besides, I don't spend Christmas here, I go to Manhattan, touring the Christmas toy shops."
"Yeah, but —"
"Christmas eve? I'll be in an orphanage or somewhere," I cut her off.
She had the strangest look of disbelief and her nose twitched a bit, "Orphanage? I've never known you for a charity chick."
I rolled my eyes, "I've a very flexible personality, likes and dislikes vary," I told her.
"Much to learn, then." She smiled. "Reunion?"
"No," I said. "To tell you the truth I'd rather spend Christmas with your family. The thought of it sounds more appealing."
"Christmas," she mumbled quietly. "Speaking of Christmas, let's see what your father has to say about that, eighteen years old. . ." Taylor quickly went through the pages until she started flipping them slowly. She continued reading again, "Aha! Quote baby," she started reading out loud, "'If you've got the chance, get home every Christmas. It's not a time for presents, nor songs, nor riches, simply a time to be with the ones closest to your heart.'"
She stuck her tongue out at me as I wore that shocked expression on my face.
"My dad wrote that?" I raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Taylor's a writer, her way with words is excellent, how do I even know she didn't just think of that?
"Uh, yeah, he did." She turned the book around and pointed right where my father wrote it. Alright, she really quoted it word for word.
"My dad really just thought he would write it there to lecture me beyond the grave," I muttered.
Taylor laughed, "Yep, he did. You should go to the reunion."
"Taylor. . .," I trailed off, running out of reasons. "I don't want to."
"You don't want to?" She settled the book aside. "Harry, you don't want to? I'll be there with you," she said softly.
I wonder what is it about the reunion and why she is making me come because she seem to really want to. "You don't want to go there."
"I do."
"You don't."
"Come on." She pouted, moving so she could straddle my legs with hers, on her knees and arms around my neck. "You can make it as my birthday present." The whisper itself was enough for me to lose my head, but then she added that charming tone and those pleading eyes.
"I have other plans," I told her, at one point I knew I was trying to resist until I was no longer in resistance for about two seconds later.
She pretended to be disappointed. I know she's not as she smiled right after. "Come on, it's just like a few days." Her eyes are still as sleepy and dreamy like they always are and it's getting to the point where I can't stop looking.
"A few days?" I raised an eyebrow. "How come you get to know details and I don't?"
"You never ask for them," she whispered, leaning close. "Come on, I'll be there with you the entire time."
I heard what she said though my mind went at loss for words. I couldn't reply, instead I was simply staring, smiling at her. That wasn't such a bad offer. It took me a while of staring at the image of her wearing my checkered polo sweater with the usual curly mess before I mustered a reply. Those gentle, sleepy eyes right before mine.
"We won't make it til New Year," I whispered, pulling her down by the waist, so she was leaning entirely against me. "In fact, we won't make it til tonight."
She laughed then gave me a kiss, pulling away moments after with a bright smile. "Not today. Still kind of tired," she whispered, finally parting our foreheads. "That and I'm kind of hungry so. . ."
I kissed her and slowly removed her legs off mine with a smile. I stood up. "Alright, let's get some lunch." I offered my hand to help her stand up and she took it gratefully.
She put the journals back where they were and looked back to me with a sigh, "I can't go out like this, Harry."
I pretended to be confused why she can't go out like that. "Why?" I asked, pretending to be ignorant. Once she rolled her eyes, I laughed at her and put an arm around her waist. "Alright, delivery then?"
"Well, you know what kind of pizza I like."
After lunch, Taylor retrieved her clothes after washing them and told me she'd love to go back to her apartment and rest because she is beyond tired. So I drove her there and went straight back to my shop because taking a stop to Cara's place meant disaster.
I carried on with reading a few of my father's journals though I was a bit distracted to keep going. Taylor was right, I am distracted today so instead of trying to go against it, I went up my room and slept for the rest of the day.
There was not a single mention of the three words I have said last night. . . maybe she didn't hear it after all.
Monday was a normal day for me, Cara visited after work, saying she hasn't visited in a while and it's usually me who visits her so she needed to return the favour. She told me she wanted to ask me if I wanted to go to a bar too but then she knew I'd decline being the 'good boy' I am now so she brought a few cans of beers and some DVDs.
"Where are you planning to spend Christmas now?" She asked, opening a can of beer. "Got to ask, I know the lovely sunshine's been trying to convince you."
Oh she's putting so much effort into convincing me.
"Course she is," I said. "Though I'm still not sure at the moment. What about you? What are your plans?"
"Oh well, the usual. I've got to go home to the rest of my dogs. Mum's been having trouble taking care of them without me around. Hey, it's the twelfth today, innit?"
"Okay?" One of my eyebrows raised automatically.
"Day before sunshine's birthday," Cara reminded.
I drunk a few sips from my drink before saying, "And?"
"What are you planning to give her?" She asked.
I've thought about it before, not that I don't know what to answer, it's simply just a matter of debating whether I want it said or not. "Not quite certain but I've a few choices in my mind."
"Good luck, Romeo." She patted my shoulder. "For one, I know you're a cheap-generous person so whatever I meant to say, I have no idea."
I did not understand that.
Cara laughed right after, "Kidding. I mean, no need for advice, you probably know what she likes now."
I do. I bit my lower lip to try to hide the smile showing up as there'd been an inside joke in her little statement and it had to be my best poker face. I drank from my beer again and continued watch whatever it is we're trying to watch.
Gladly, Cara was not in her snooping mood and she hasn't detected something off so she left peacefully. I took another nap after she left and woken up during midnight when Taylor called me. She was okay, she just wants to talk but there was a bit difference in the way she talks. She told me not to mind it.