by Jenni James
Take care,
Taylor
I couldn’t believe he didn’t think Alyssa liked Zack. She was crazy for him! I refused to even think about the rest of the letter at the moment, but in regards to Alyssa, I decided to set the record straight. How dare he decide if someone likes someone or not! Ooh! I clicked the reply button and started to type. After I deleted three different greetings to Taylor, I finally decided not to include one.
From: Chloe Hart [email protected]
Subject: Yesterday
For your information, Alyssa is shy. And just because she doesn’t want to talk about Zack in front of his best friend doesn’t mean she doesn’t talk about him in front of her best friends. She talks about him all the time! She still doesn’t understand what she did wrong. You know nothing about girls, Taylor. It baffles me that a guy who has been in as many relationships as you have, still does not understand the simple fundamental basics of women. How dare you say that one of my best friends was never in love with Zack! How dare you say that she did not care for him! You weren’t even there the day he broke up with her. I was. I saw the tears and grief from that girl. Why do guys think they have the answer to everything?
Chloe
P.S. Alyssa is not in a relationship, and she has most decidedly not moved on. Not that that little fact will fix anything, but I wanted to set the record straight.
Twenty
Valentine Surprises
I never got a reply from Taylor, and after a couple of weeks, I gave up waiting for one. Obviously, the guy had said what he wanted to say. To say I was shocked over Blake’s past would be a serious understatement. After I read Taylor’s email over and over again, I was able to remember and piece together conversations with Blake that made more sense now.
I hated to admit it, but in my gut I knew Taylor was right. Blake was a villain—a nasty, despicable, horrid criminal. I was grateful for Taylor’s interference and warning Blake away from me. I couldn’t believe I’d blatantly disregarded and dismissed Taylor as a womanizer and found myself nearly in the snares of one. It was Blake’s stupid dimples. Guys should never have dimples. Okay, so it was more than that, and I knew it. Blake’s charming personality and flattering attention had drawn me in like a moth to a flame.
The irony of the situation was not lost to me. All along I had considered Taylor to be playing a game, while I was positive that Blake was serious about me, when in actual fact it was Blake playing the game, and Taylor was the one who was serious. Taylor? Taylor Anderson really and truly loved me. For three years he had loved me. That statement still continued to baffle me, no matter how many times I repeated the words in my head.
I couldn’t imagine how much he hated me now. I had said some pretty unforgiving things to him. I wouldn’t blame him at all if he never wanted to speak to me again. Not that I wanted to talk to him. I was convinced Taylor was still as conceited as ever—maybe not such a jerk, but definitely conceited. Of course, my opinion of him changed just a bit more on Valentine’s Day.
On Monday, Madison, Alyssa, and I were all in art class together when the florist arrived and delivered a package to Alyssa. It was the largest collection of roses I had ever seen. There had to have been at least six dozen red and white roses. The note attached just said one word, “Will.”
At first, we all thought a guy named Will had sent them, at least until the next delivery came about five minutes after the first. In walked a deliveryman carrying six extra-large heart-shaped boxes full of chocolates. The whole class freaked. The excitement and buzz that came from everyone as the man set them in front of Alyssa could’ve launched a rocket, it was so energetic. There was a card attached to the top box that read, “You.”
It didn’t take Madison, Alyssa, and I long to put the two words together, which was good, since the next deliveryman brought a dozen metallic, heart-shaped helium balloons. The front balloon was big and shaped like a bee. It was really cute. It was Madison who noticed the small note attached to the bee balloon that read, “Be.”
I had never seen a spread like the one on our table. Art was completely forgotten. Everyone in the class was anxious for the next delivery. Even Ms. Bailey was eager. She actually walked out and stared down the hall so she could see what would come next. We knew when the next delivery had made it into the building because Ms. B. got all flustered and ran back to her desk.
This time it was a gigantic white teddy bear that dwarfed the whole deliveryman. When he walked in with it, all we could make out were his two jean-covered legs beneath it. The bear had a large card wrapped around its neck with a ribbon. The front of the card read, “Mine?”
The guy carrying the bear walked cautiously into the room and then stopped. I looked down at his shoes and thought they looked familiar.
When I heard Alyssa gasp, I looked up to see Zack’s head as he peeked around the bear. Just then the whole room gasped, and I could hear exclamations of “Zack Bradford?” and “No way!” or “It can’t be!”
Alyssa’s chair scraped against the floor as she ran to throw her arms around Zack’s side. Immediately, he dropped the bear at his feet and scooped her up in a hug. He even spun her around and everything. The smile on her face could’ve outshone the sun. Then Zack did the most unbelievable thing ever. He set Alyssa’s feet on the ground and kissed her, right in front of the whole class and Ms. Bailey. It was awesome. We all hooted and hollered and caused such a disturbance that some students from the other classes came in to see what the commotion was about.
Thank you, Taylor Anderson. I was so happy for Alyssa, I almost cried. I looked at Ms. B., who was discreetly wiping at her cheeks. It would seem our teacher had a romantic side we never knew about.
Alyssa wasn’t the only one to be surprised on Valentine’s Day. Collin had also planned something special for Madison. Since Zack intended to drive Alyssa home—he let us know he was never letting her out of his sight again—Madison and I took off right after school. She was really excited and wanted to get changed before Collin got to her house. Apparently the time of the surprise wasn’t a surprise, because she knew he would be there at precisely 3:35.
Once I got home it hit me that I had nothing really particular to do that day except teach my dance class. I was so happy for my friends and their Valentine dates that it left hardly anything for me to pity myself over. Okay, I am human, and I did wonder what it would’ve been like for me, had Taylor been my boyfriend. Would he have surprised me with loads of gifts like Zack, in front of the whole room? Or would he have taken me somewhere nice and romantic that didn’t cost a dime? Personally, I am for the nice romantic stuff, but a card or box of chocolates wouldn’t have gone amiss. What am I thinking? There’s no use regretting something I can’t change. Besides, he’ll never notice me again anyway. Why would he when he has a whole slew of girls waiting to be his?
Obviously, my little pep talk would’ve worked a whole lot better if I didn’t have a new reminder of Taylor to contend with twice a week. My own personal Valentine surprises consisted of two very separate things:
Surprise one: Ms. Chavez had told me as soon as I walked into the studio that she had received a phone call that morning from her friend, who said the audition committee had recently reviewed my audition tape. I had been accepted into the ballet scholarship program in Arizona State University next fall!
Surprise two: I also had a charming new four-year-old ballet student by the name of Georgia Anderson. Luckily for me, Mrs. Anderson enrolled her daughter in my dance class the one day I found the hardest to dismiss Taylor from my thoughts. Really, this whole “fates set against me” thing is getting a little hard to live with.
The little blond girl was adorable. She only reminded me of Taylor when she smiled, laughed, or looked at me with her sky blue eyes. And it took about four weeks for my heart to stop beating erratically in simultaneous dread and hope that Taylor might decide to drop her off or pick her up from class. Since he never showed up and his mother always did, I eventuall
y began to chastise myself for ever thinking he might’ve shown an interest in his sister’s ballet school, or more importantly, her teacher. I never stopped looking out in the hallway for him, but I did stop expecting him to be there.
As the days passed I got attached to Georgia, who had fast become one of my favorite students. Not only did she amaze me with how quickly she picked up ballet, but I also loved how kind she was to the other girls. The longer I taught her, the more I saw in her a reflection of her family.
I had to admit I had probably misjudged the Andersons. Not only did it seem that they taught good principles to their daughter, but she never once looked down on the other children and she was constantly encouraging them with compliments. Many days I would watch little Georgia share with or bring presents to her new friends. One week, she brought pretty princess ballerina stickers for all of the girls. Another week it was sparkly ribbons for their hair. And for the week of St. Patrick’s Day, it was a plateful of four-leaf-clover-shaped cookies that she and Taylor had made.
“Wow, Georgia.” I gasped as I held the plate. “Did you and Taylor really make all of these?”
“Yep.” Her blond curls bounced up and down. “Taylor even let me stir ’em an’ frost ’em!”
Curious about this different side of Taylor, I asked, “Does he always make cookies with you?”
“Yep, when he’s home he does.”
“When he’s home?”
“Yep. It’s been wheelly fun, cuz he’s home more now cuz he broke-ed up wif his gill-friend.” She bounced from one foot to the other.
“Did he have a new one?” I asked.
“Not since Kylie. She didn’t not like me anyways. She never let me frost da cookies if Taylor wasn’t not lookin’.”
“Really? That’s not nice.” I frowned. Maybe Kylie is more mean than I thought.
“Yeah, Taylor found out ’bout it an’ he got mad.” Georgia did a little spin in place and watched her skirt twirl around her.
“Because she wouldn’t let you frost cookies?”
“No, cuz she didn’t not like me.”
“Oh.” Yeah, I can see that not going over very well with Taylor.
Georgia held one of my hands. “I like you, though.”
I looked down at her smiling face. “You do?”
“Yep. I told Taylor you should be his gill-friend, cuz I likeed you so much.”
I choked out, “Y–you did?”
“Yep.”
“Does he know who I am?”
“Oh, yeah. He says you’re da best dancer in da whole world!”
“He did?”
“Yep. That’s why I told him you should be his gill-friend, cuz you can dance so good.”
“What did Taylor say?” Oh my gosh. What did he say?
“About what?” Georgia dropped my hand.
“Um, about you wanting me to be his girlfriend.”
“Oh, he said you didn’t not like him.”
“He did?”
“Yep. Is that true? You don’t not like my brov-ur?” Her Taylor-blue eyes pled with mine.
“I, uh, no, it’s not true.”
“So you like him!” Georgia began to jump up and down.
“Um, of course. Your brother’s very nice.” I gently placed my hand on her head, trying to calm her.
“Yeah. He does nice stuff for lots of people.” She began to sway back and forth under my hand as she watched her skirt swish.
“So, um, do you know why your brother doesn’t have a girlfriend?”
Swish, swish. “Nope. He says he can’t not have one wight now.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. That’s just what he says.”
“Is that why your mom comes and picks you up and not Taylor?”
“I dunno.” Georgia began to jump again. “Can I pass the cookies to ev-we-one? Please, please, please?”
So much for getting more info. I laughed. “Sure.”
Twenty-One
My Own Pemberley
It was the end of March when I noticed Georgia had left her dance bag at the studio. After a brief hesitation, I decided to take it over to the Anderson home. I knew Georgia would be really upset if she didn’t have it. At every ballet class, she told us about her practices at home. She would have a hard time practicing without her shoes.
I remembered vaguely where Taylor lived, but it had been years since I had been in his neighborhood, so I took the address with me just in case. After a few wrong turns and a couple of U-turns, I eventually made it to his street. The three-story plantation-style house had seemed big before, but now it was simply breathtaking. I can’t imagine living in a house like that! It’s like a fairy tale.
The rumor was that Taylor’s mom saw a house for sale in a magazine, then took the picture to an architectural firm and commissioned them to make a house for her that looked exactly like the picture. I wondered how much it had cost. Whatever it was, it was worth it. The front yard looked just like a magical garden, lined with rows and rows of flowers and hedged bushes. Wide, gleaming white steps led to a large front porch that was flanked by six sturdy, carved white pillars.
My plan was to quickly hand over the bag to Mrs. Anderson and then hightail it out of there before Taylor saw me. I parked my mom’s Volvo across the street and grabbed the dance bag. After a few breaths to calm my nerves—and a couple of reminders that there was no way Taylor was home and that I was just being chicken—I stepped out of the car and crossed the road.
After passing under the watchful glare of the two fierce lion statues that guarded the home, I hurried up the paved stairs. As I reached the pillars, I paused a moment and looked at the splendor all around me. Never before had I been this close to something so—so, huge. I climbed the last of the steps that led to tall, double French doors adorned with matching floral welcome wreaths.
Another deep shaky breath brought me up to the doorbell. I pushed the white button, then thought, What if Taylor answers the door? Guess I’ll just drop the bag and run.
I was grateful when the door was answered not by Taylor but by a woman dressed like a maid. “Can I help you, miss?” she asked, giving me an odd look.
I realized I was staring at her. “Oh, sorry. I’m Georgia’s ballet teacher, and she left her bag today. Could you give this to her?” I attempted to hand it to the lady, but she had other ideas.
“Oh, Georgia will be so happy to see you.” She smiled. “Please come in.”
What? No way. “Oh, uh, I would rather—” I was about to protest until the woman opened the door wider and I got a peek inside. The house was incredible. “Oh, okay. Thank you.” I smiled as I stepped over the threshold and gawked. Wow. This is like a movie set.
I stood for a moment in the large entryway, mesmerized by the gorgeous crystal chandelier before me. Behind it I could just make out the top of a double-sided staircase that cascaded down either side of the marble-floored foyer.
“This way,” the woman instructed.
She waited for me to follow her further into the house, but I couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t budge. All of a sudden I was indescribably nervous. No thanks, I wanted to say. I think I need to go now. I actually would’ve dropped the bag and fled the house completely had Taylor not shown up at that precise instant.
“Mrs. Little, was that the doorbell I heard?” his voice came from above me. Dismayed, I froze as I watched his progress down the right set of stairs. First his sock-covered feet, then his jean-clad legs, then his bold-striped chest, then all of him. His steps faltered as he saw me, and our eyes locked.
“Chloe?” he said in obvious disbelief.
He looks so good! I forgot how hot he is, even without shoes. I’m going to melt right here, I thought. Except I couldn’t do anything. Speechless and completely paralyzed, I was sure I couldn’t have looked like a bigger freak if I tried.
Unfortunately, Taylor had no problem moving as he bounded down the last few stairs.
He’s coming. Yikes. In my
embarrassment, I looked away from his incredulous stare and saw the ballet bag in my hands. “Oh. Uh, I, this—this is Georgia’s,” I was able to spit out. “She left it at dance class today.” I offered the bag to Taylor as he stopped a few feet away from me, but he wasn’t looking at it. My heart jumped.
“You’re here.” His eyes searched my face. “You’re actually here.”
“Um, yes.” I looked away from him, thinking he probably wished I was anywhere else but in his house. I tried to step back and was amazed at my traitorously stubborn feet, which apparently didn’t want to be anywhere else. Breathe. Take a deep breath and breathe.
“Mrs. Little, I’ll take care of Chloe, don’t worry,” I heard Taylor say near my ear. With a small tug he gently took my hand. My eyes fluttered back to his. He’s holding my hand!
“Thanks,” I heard the woman say as Taylor pulled my hand slowly toward him. I realized then that it was still clamped onto Georgia’s bag, and that it was the small tote and not my hand he was really after. I jerked my palm away and released the bag, which fell at Taylor’s feet. Mortified, I mumbled, “Sorry,” and started to bend over and pick it up.
It was Taylor’s hand on my arm that stopped me. “Wait.” My eyes fluttered up to his and were held captive by their intensity. Slowly his fingers moved down my arm and left a delicious trail of sparks until his hand held mine again. I gulped, unable to look away. “I’ll get the bag,” he said.
Then I watched in amazement as he bent over with our hands still clasped, picked up the bag, and stood, in one fluid motion. Thankfully, that action allowed me the moment I needed to collect my wits. “Thank you, Taylor. If you could give that to Georgia for me, I’d be really grateful. Anyway, well, I better go.” I would’ve stepped back but my feet still refused to move. And my hand! My hand refused to even think of pulling out of Taylor’s warm hold.
