"Now I know why you were so worried that night that I went to your house for dinner. Watching your family grill someone feels like shit."
"Oh, come on," I said, keeping my eyes on my feet to ensure I didn't trip down the stairs and plough into Taylor's back. "They weren't grilling me. I thought it was all perfectly normal conversation."
Not that I was exactly an expert in that, but still.
"Please," Taylor said as stepped off the bottom stair and onto the floor of the basement. "My mom asked if you have a boyfriend."
I winced and Taylor made a satisfied face in return.
"Okay, fine. Maybe that was a little...you know. She was probably just curious."
"Too bad subtlety's not her strong suit."
I agreed with him on that one. Sofia seemed like a woman who wanted everyone around her to know what she wanted. I liked that. Sure, at times it was probably overbearing but I'd take that over shrewdness any day.
When I joined Taylor at the foot of the stairs, I saw my suitcase standing in the hallway.
"Thanks for bringing it down."
"No problem. Sorry you have to stay in the basement, but if it makes you feel any better, I'll also be down here."
And why would that make me feel better? It didn't matter why, because it did.
"It's fine, I don't mind."
"Only my parents' bedroom is upstairs. My bedroom, well, I guess what used to be my bedroom, and the spare bedroom are here."
I nodded and let Taylor lead me to the spare bedroom.
That was really the only logical place for me to be, right? Some people were traditional, and they didn't like non-married couples to sleep in the same room in their house. With Taylor and I, that didn't even cross anyone's minds. We weren't a couple, let alone married. In fact, sharing the same room would have just been odd.
"It's not much, pretty much a bed and dresser. There's no ensuite, but you can either use mine or the washroom upstairs," Taylor said as he pushed open the door.
Upon taking in the small, rectangular room, my first thought was: Taylor was wrong.
There was more than a bed and dresser there. There was also a television, a messily-made bed, a hamper full of dirty clothes, and books scattered on the dresser. It looked lived in.
"I'm sorry, but I think I'm throwing a wrench in your plans," someone said.
The voice came out of nowhere and I jumped. Taylor gave me a 'what the hell?' look. We were in a basement, cut me some slack, people.
Thankfully, the interloper was only Mark.
"Uncle Mark, what's going on?" Taylor asked. His eyes darted from his uncle, to the room, and back to his uncle. "Have you been staying here?"
The older Hudson nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, only for a few months. You know I was just renting an apartment by myself and I'm here so often that it really didn't make sense for me to keep paying. Your parents were nice enough to let me stay here and pay some bills..."
Taylor took a step forward. "Are you having money problems, because if you—"
Mark raised his hands. "No, Taylor, everything is fine. There's nothing to worry about, seriously."
I kept my eyes steady on Taylor's face, which was donning an uneasy expression.
"Seriously, I'm okay," Mark insisted.
"You'd tell me if things weren't?"
"Of course." Mark placed a hand on his nephew's broad shoulder. "The biggest problem in my life right now is that my being here has messed up Camille's accommodations."
"Oh, please, don't worry about it!" I rushed out, hoping my words were still comprehendible.
I'm sure we'd be able to work it out. I could be fine on the roof, if need be, so long as I had a pillow and blanket.
And maybe a glass of water, but I didn't want to sound greedy.
"Yeah, please don't worry about that. She can stay in my room," Taylor said easily.
Just like that, problem solved.
Wait. His room? Would he be in it?
I hadn't seen Taylor's room yet. But that was about to change. We wished Uncle Mark a good night and he apologized again. Then Taylor, with my suitcase in tow, took three long strides until he came to the next door in the hallway.
This must have been how Ana felt before Christian showed her the Red Room.
That was what it was called, right? I'm not sure why I'm referencing that series; I never even read it.
"I'm warning you now, this hasn't been my bedroom since I was fifteen," Taylor said, snapping my mind back to the present.
"Okay."
When Taylor finally pushed the door all the way open—he was moving at a snail's pace, or at least it felt like that—all I saw was black.
And then Taylor flicked on the light, and blues and greys and purples hit my retina.
Some teenagers have a mature bedroom theme when they're fifteen years old. I did. The colour palette was cream and burgundy, and my quilt and curtains had a matching Victorian pattern.
Taylor's room, however, did not fit that description. He told me it hadn't been his bedroom since he was fifteen and by the looks of it, it probably hadn't changed since he was ten.
The bed, which sat in the corner of the room, had NHL themed sheets, with all thirty teams' logos on them. He had a bookshelf which contained more trophies and ribbons than novels. Jerseys from LA's major sports teams covered the navy-blue walls.
"What do you think?"
I could hear the tentativeness in his voice. He shouldn't be embarrassed of his room. I thought it was...
"Adorable. Absolutely adorable."
Yeah, that totally wasn't what Taylor wanted to hear. He let out a small moan.
Jesus.
Thank goodness there was a teddy bear on the dresser to cool the mood.
"Before this gets awkward, let's just get the sleeping arrangements out of the way. You can sleep in my bed, and I can sleep on the couch out in the TV room."
My lips parted in preparation to say something, but Taylor held out a very large hand.
"Honestly? I never sleep in my bed when I come home. It's only a twin and I have to put my body in the fetal position if I want to sleep. At least on the couch I get to stretch out like a normal person."
The imagery made me laugh. "Are you sure, though? You're okay on the couch?"
"Yeah, I can sleep anywhere."
"Me too."
If there was a hall of fame for napping, this girl would have been inducted yesterday.
"The bathroom is right there, through that door," Taylor pointed.
"Thanks. Do you mind if I use it to freshen up? I just want to take a quick shower."
"Yeah, sure. Would you mind if I stay in here and get changed?"
"No, go ahead."
I couldn't kick him out of his own room to get changed, could I? It was bad enough that I was robbing him of his bed.
Sitting on my knees, I unzipped my suitcase and grabbed my toiletry bag. The pair of pajamas I packed caught my eye.
"Taylor, we're not doing anything after this, are we? I can put my pajamas on after, right?"
"No, I thought we could just chill here. You can wear whatever's comfortable."
Pajamas it is.
Taylor's washroom was surprisingly clean. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was dusty or stale from lack of use, but Mark probably used it regularly, which meant it would be cleaned regularly. The countertop was devoid of product, but if I opened the medicine cabinet, I wouldn't be surprised if I round men's supplies.
"Camille? Are you okay?"
"Um, yes?"
His laugh was still audible even on the other side of the door.
"I meant are you still wearing clothes? I brought you a towel."
Right, I'd need that. And yes, I was still fully clothed, because I was standing there like an idiot wondering what was in the medicine cabinet.
I opened the door, smiled my thanks and took the towel from his hands.
Call me crazy, but one of my favourite things about taking a vacation was the opportunity to use a different shower. The stall was different, the pressure was different, and it just felt so luxurious. Unfortunately, this shower wasn't anywhere near as peaceful. Being naked and wet and a few feet away from Taylor was messing with me. Okay, so there was a closed door between us, big whoop. I still felt like it was a big deal.
I was under the warm water for only a few minutes because I wasn't washing my hair. My straightened hair was up in a clip. Besides, I wanted to be respectful of the fact that Taylor's parents paid the bills here.
When I got out, I quickly towel dried my body, pulled on my pajamas, and brushed my teeth.
All in all, the process wasn't even ten minutes. That was a short amount of time for someone to complete a shower routine.
That's the only explanation I could think of for why I opened the bathroom door and came face to face with a shirtless torso.
Something inhuman squealed from my lips. It probably sounded like "Ufguh."
Taylor was wearing black sweat shorts, a black baseball cap on backwards, his gold chain, and ear buds. That would explain why he didn't hear my gibberish.
Did I mention he was shirtless?
I probably did, because that body was hard to ignore.
And so was the ink of the left side of his rib cage.
"Oh hey, you're out. That was fast," Taylor said as he took his ear buds out one by one.
"Yeah, I didn't wash my hair," I said absently. "You got a new tattoo?"
He looked down at his body, like he had forgotten about it. "Yeah. About a week ago, when I came back. I went to the same guy who did my other tattoos."
My head cocked to the side as if that would somehow help me read the letters that were too far away.
"What does it say?"
"Come see for yourself."
Well, I just had dessert. His words were thick like honey.
Taylor took a seat on his bed and I walked over and joined him. He kept his eyes on me for all five steps.
"Cute PJs," he smirked.
My face flushed. They were my favourite pair, from Victoria's Secret. And no, they weren't sexy. They were pink and white striped cotton with a collared short-sleeve shirt and capri pants. Because nothing says sexy like cotton.
"Thanks."
I joined him on the bed but it didn't dip nearly as much as it did when Taylor sat.
"You smell nice," he murmured.
"Thanks. It's my body wash. It's called Love and Sunshine."
Taylor smirked. "And what's that supposed to smell like?"
"Like love. And sunshine."
"Right," he griped as he shifted his body so that his newly inked rib cage faced me.
"Can I touch it?" I whispered. My finger hovered next to the new ink.
"Mmm hmm."
Softly, my finger traced the words as I read them in my head. Taylor shivered and I looked up.
"Sorry," I murmured.
"No, don't, it felt nice. Just a little ticklish."
I nodded but kept my hand to myself.
Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.
That's...
"Muhammad Ali," Taylor explained needlessly.
"I know. I love that quote."
"You know it?"
"Yeah, I saved it to one of my Pinterest boards," I shrugged. "Why do you think I'm going to grad school? Because sometimes a little sacrifice is necessary for a lot of reward."
"I agree," he smiled. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen quickly. "It's only eight thirty, but I'm not sure if you're tired from the flight."
Truthfully, I was a little tired. But when opportunities present themselves to you, you don't sleep on them. Literally.
"I'm good."
"Good. I was hoping we could stay up and talk for a bit."
"Sounds good."
New drinking game: take a shot every time one of us says 'good.'
"Can I get you a snack or something to drink? There's a mini-fridge in here, under the desk. My mom stocked it with Jarritos."
"Jarritos?"
"It's a Mexican soft drink. My mom really likes them. They're pretty good, but they have lots of sugar, so I save them for special occasions."
And he was willing to have one tonight.
Because he thought this was a special occasion.
"Sure, I'd love one."
When Taylor got up to get our drinks, he pulled on a black t-shirt with a faded graphic. He rolled over the chair from his desk and placed it beside his bed. Then he cracked open our drinks and handed me one.
I took a sip. It was delicious. But I was biased, because I needed Diet Coke like people needed oxygen.
"So, you have a mini-fridge in your bedroom?" I smiled.
"Yeah, my mom was tried of seeing my Gatorade upstairs in the kitchen, so my dad brought this home for me when they were throwing it out at his work."
I nodded, laughing and then asked: "Do you mind if I put my feet on your bed?"
His drink was so close to his lips, but my question made him pause and smile. "Um, yes?"
It was just in my nature to ask those stupid questions. I took that as confirmation that I could get cozy. I stacked the pillows the way I liked them, grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed, and draped it over myself.
"You good now?" Taylor asked.
"Yes," I said smugly.
Taylor plopped his legs on to the foot of the bed and arranged his torso so that it faced me.
"Your family's really great, Taylor."
He smiled, a sedated and satisfied one. "Thanks. I know I'm lucky to have them."
"Your mom is warm and hilarious, and your dad isn't as quiet as I thought he would be."
"No, he wasn't," Taylor agreed. "Because you two have school in common. I never did have that in common with him."
If I could reach out and touch Taylor, I would've, but he was too far away. "Trust me, he loves you just the way you are."
He smiled, just a teensy one. "I know. I'm worried about my uncle, though. Why would he move in?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm sure he's okay."
Taylor nodded, but didn't seem entirely convinced. "I don't want to talk about that now, anyways."
No?
"Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
"Something my mom asked you."
The sip of pop (I didn't care that I was in America. It's pop, not soda.) almost choked me on the way down. When I asked that, I didn't expect him to have an answer lined up right away.
"What? What do you mean?"
"She asked you if you had a boyfriend."
Oh god. He went there.
"Yeah, and I told her no."
Taylor nodded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Screw this kid!
My eyes narrowed. "So why are you bringing it up now?"
"Because you said you didn't have one because you've been focusing on school. How long has that been going on?"
What the hell?
"My whole life, I guess. I've always been pretty focused on school."
Taylor let out what could only be described as a small roar as he threw his head back and looked at the ceiling.
"That is so not what I'm trying to ask you!"
"Then what?"
The shower was proving pointless as I could feel a light layer of sweat begin to cover my body.
Taylor's neck returned to normal position and he looked me straight in the eye.
"I'm asking you if you've ever had a boyfriend."
Oh. No. My eyes cast downwards.
"I have not," I admitted slowly.
I'm not sure what expression Taylor had on his face, but he was silent for a few beats.
"I don't buy that," he said finally.
"What don't you buy?"
"There's never been a guy that you liked and dated? Someone you were more than friends with?"
Seriously, there wasn't. The closest thing I could think of to what Taylor described was himself. Kidding. In high school, there was Jared, a guy I had in multiple classes. I wasn't attracted to him or anything like that, but he was nice and smart and we'd talk during classes. Then he started asking me to hang out outside of class. We went for lunch at Tim Horton's and skating. A part of me wondered if maybe he liked me, but when we were out—together, alone—he casually mentioned his girlfriend.
Dick.
"There hasn't been." Then I turned the tables. "Have you? Ever had a girlfriend, that is?"
Who was I, Barbara Walters? Did I want to know the answer to this question?
"Nope."
My eyes flashed to his. "Then why are you acting so surprised that I've never had a boyfriend when you've never had a girlfriend?"
"Because I'm never in one place for a long time."
Good point.
"And because I'm not a pretty, smart, nice girl."
Holy crap. Stick a fork in me. I was DONE.
Did Taylor Hudson just call me pretty? Yeah, yeah, he said smart and nice as well but I get those a lot. Well, often enough. But pretty? I literally can't remember the last time someone told me I was pretty.
"Thanks," I blushed.
"You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
"That you're beautiful."
Never mind. Now I was done.
More gibberish left my lips. What the hell do you say to that?
"Well, I don't think I'm ugly."
At least I hoped I wasn't. It's a scary feeling when you accept that you're average in attractiveness but then wonder if you are actually hideous.
"Right, because that's the exact same as beautiful."
"Thanks. I also think you're attractive."
And the award for biggest moron goes to: Blabbermouth. Me.
My face felt like it was on fire, but unfortunately, no extinguisher existed.
Taylor's cheeks blushed and he smiled a smile that only confirmed my words.
"Thanks, Camille, but I know I'm not good looking."
"That's not true. I wouldn't lie to you."
"I don't look like Brad Pitt."
I shrugged. "So? There's a difference between being 'handsome' and attractive. Celebrities like Brad Pitt may have symmetrical faces but that doesn't mean he has a warm, welcoming face. I'd rather be attractive, even if that meant being not so conventionally handsome."
Taylor didn't look convinced. "Name someone who fits that category."
I thought for a moment. I meant every word I said. "Miles Teller, I guess. He's an actor."
"I've literally never heard of him in my life."
"He was in Divergent."
Crickets.
"Never mind."
Taylor crossed his ankles on the bed.
"Okay, another question for you."
Something in his tone gave me a warning chill down my spine.
"But you don't have to answer it if you don't want to."
Oh god.
"Fine. No promises! But you can ask."
"Do you have a lot of experience with guys? Physically, I mean?"
My sharp intake of breath was the only sound that could be heard in the room. If someone other than Taylor asked that question, I would have told him where to go. But Taylor was my friend. I trusted him. Besides, talking about this stuff with him was beginning to excite me.
"No, I don't," I answered simply. Honestly. "Are you surprised?"
"Considering that you said you've never had a boyfriend, I'm not. But I am relieved."
What?
"Why?"
"Because you aren't the type of person who should be messed with. And it also means I don't have to hunt anyone down when we get back to Winnipeg."
Giddy, giddy, giddy.
That was how his words were making me feel. Even though he was saying things that a brother would say, I was happy that he felt something for me. And feeling cared about and protected felt so damn good.
"Something tells me that even though you've never had a girlfriend that you still have experience."
Taylor winked as his cheeks flushed red.
"I'll admit, I've slept with a few people."
"Define a few."
"I don't know, I can't remember."
Holy crap! He can't remember? That many?
"What, like fifty?"
The sip Taylor had taken almost came flying out of his mouth. "Jesus, Camille, how did you get fifty?"
"Well, I figure there's 52 weeks in a year, and one girl a week..."
He laughed, a short one that sounded like it was in disbelief. "No, like less than five."
Oh. Okay. That's better.
I shut my eyes, because I couldn't look at him when I asked my next question.
"Anyone in Winnipeg?"
Taylor look a long, slow sip that I swear covered a small smile. "No, no one in Winnipeg."
Good. So that meant he never left hanging out with me to fuck someone else. I think if he had said yes, a tiny part of me would have felt destroyed.
"I'll be honest, Camille. I think you should try it someday. It feels really good."
I bet. Just talking about it was probably getting my endorphins going.
"I know. I mean, I'm sure!"
There was no way I was going to admit what I did during my private time.
Under the blanket, I shifted my body a little.
"What feels so good about it?" I whispered.
Taylor shrugged and a hazy look overtook his eyes. "Lots. You get to feel close to someone else and watch her face as you bring her pleasure. And then she does the same to you and you slowly feel yourself lose control. I swear, you'll have no idea how good your body can feel when the right person touches it."
Damn. My mouth felt like a desert.
"Sounds like I'm missing out on a lot," I said, my voice husky. "But hey, I do well in school!"
Taylor bit his lip and looked at me thoughtfully. "I think you're exactly where you're supposed to be, Camille. There's no shame in being in your position. When it's your time, good things will come."
"Yeah, I guess."
Taylor swallowed and I saw the delicate movement in his throat.
"Just one piece of advice, if you don't mind?"
"What?"
In a move that I found tortuous, Taylor brought his legs back to the floor and placed his elbows on his thighs, leaning over. His voice was soft and scratchy when he spoke.
"When you do do it for the first time, make sure it's with someone who has enough experience to know how to treat you right."