The Path We Take (Young Love Book 2)

by Kylie Key

  The Path We Take

  Young Love, Volume 2

  Kylie Key

  Published by Kylie Key, 2019.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Path We Take (Young Love, #2)

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  Epilogue

  THE PATH WE TAKE

  A Young Love Novel

  by

  KYLIE KEY

  HE’S ALONE

  He’s tattooed

  He’s badly burnt

  He’s fighting for his life

  A knee injury turns my world upside down,

  putting my gymnastics scholarship in doubt.

  As I wait for surgery, I’m persuaded into volunteering

  to help with my college applications.

  The boy called Spider has no family nearby

  and faces many months in hospital.

  They think my visits will help with his recovery,

  give him something to look forward to,

  help him heal.

  But they're wrong.

  I don't help Spider.

  He helps me.

  The boy who has nothing to live for

  Ends up giving me everything to live for.

  The path we take is sometimes not the one we planned...

  Copyright © 2019 Kylie Key

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.

  - Kenji Miyazawa

  Author’s Note:

  When I got my laptop to “read” me the story I noticed it didn’t pronounce some names properly! So here is my guide to name pronunciation : )

  Dominique - Domma - neek

  Cassian - Cash-in

  Malachi - Mal-a-key

  Trieste - Tree-est

  Thank you,

  Kylie xx

  CHAPTER 1

  The first boy who caught my eye, who made me start thinking about holding hands and hugs, and wondering what a first kiss on the lips would be like, was Taylor Jensen.

  Taylor Jensen was cute, with his dreamy, dark eyes and dark brown hair that flopped across his forehead in a way that looked like he had no control of it. He had the lean, muscular body of an athlete, the enviable tan of a surfer and a smile that made me giggle (and dribble, if I wasn't careful).

  He wasn't in any of my classes so there was no reason for me to ever come into contact with him, but I'd sneak glances of him in the hallways, or in the lunch room, sitting with the crowd of popular kids, whose commonality was that they were cooler than the rest of us. By definition this meant that they dated, partied, and had the best cars in the parking lot. My parents preferred safety over style, and economy over flashiness, which is why I drove a sensible silver Honda CR-V and not a red Audi S5, like Taylor Jensen did.

  Taylor never had a shortage of girls around him so my daydreaming remained just that, and a glimpse of him flicking his hair back was enough to put a smile on my face, send my pulse racing and my mind fantasizing.

  "Who are you staring at?" Trieste demanded, as we sat huddled over our phones at our usual table, our trays of food virtually untouched as we checked all facets of social media.

  It had taken a moment to realize she was talking to me. It had taken another moment to realize I hadn't been checking my phone like everyone else, but was in fact gawking at the spectacular figure of Taylor Jensen, animatedly telling a story a table away.

  Trieste turned sharply. "Taylor Jensen?" she said in a voice that went up several decibels. My head dropped shamefully. "Taylor Jensen?" she repeated just as loudly, but in an incredulous tone that inferred I'd have about as much chance of attracting his attention as I did the Prince of England. My face changed from beige glow to fire engine red in 0.75 seconds.

  All heads at our table turned: fastest was Ainsley, my very best friend and ally since the day our moms had dressed us in identical outfits for the first day of sixth grade. Instead of being mortally embarrassed, we had bonded over our awesome choice of clothing — a floral cold-shoulder top, ripped denim shorts and red Converse sneakers. Our mutual love for cats, dancing, Doritos and Shawn Mendes cemented this friendship.

  Ella and Selina craned their necks and Taylor Jensen, upon hearing his name being called out, was now looking in our direction. I could see this through the cracks between my fingers.

  "Domiiiiii!" Ainsley squealed with childish glee. Ella put her arm around my cowering body while I tried to conjure up a magic spell to make myself invisible.

  "Somebody's got a crush," Trieste said, her voice shrill enough that the people in Australia probably heard it.

  And though I had my eyes focused down on the table top, a whiff of a woody-vanilla cologne told me that the tall, lean presence hovering next to me was, indeed, Taylor Jensen.

  "Did someone call my name?" he asked smoothly. I longed to look up, to see his devastatingly gorgeous eyes staring into mine, to see his perfect white teeth in a smile directed at me, but my cheeks were burning, and I was trying to pull strands of hair from my braid to use as a shield to hide behind.

  "Seems Domi's crushing on you, Taylor," Trieste said in an undisguised attempt to belittle me. "Her little eyes were staring at you." She gave out a haughty laugh, like she was auditioning for the role of Cruella de Vil. Giggles rang out around the table, I wasn't sure if they were aimed at me or Trieste's pretentious accent. But I knew I had to defend myself.

  "I wasn't," I spluttered, "I wasn't staring." I found the courage to look up, hoping to find support from my very best friends. But none of the girls were looking at me. All eyes were swooning over Taylor Jensen, and the even taller figure of Logan Newman, who had appeared behind him. Logan Newman and Taylor Jensen standing in close proximity of our table? It was unheard of! We weren't the popular cheerleading-Audi-driving-socially-adept crowd who sat at the Number One table. We were a diverse group of gymnasts, dancers and musicians who cared more about shopping, saving whales and recycling than boys, parties and dating.

  Or were we?

  Wide eyes and wide smiles were aimed directly at Logan and Taylor, and momentarily no one seemed to care about my embarrassment.

  "Dominique Strauss?" My name on Taylor's lips sounded like a choir of heavenly angels. It caused a collective intake of breath, mine included. I peered up at him, wondering how he even knew my name. I thought I waltzed around school in a cloud of anonymity; if I had any status it was for being Damon Strauss's little sister. A year older than me, Damon was about to graduate and head off to college. He'd been the school's top tennis player, and was a pretty boy with good hair, which apparently counts for a lot in this world. Taylor Jensen's hair style was very similar to Damon's.

  "She couldn't take her eyes off of you Taylor." Trieste laughed, another attempt at ridiculing me, but it was her eyelashes that were fluttering double time. I saw her moisten her plum colored lips and run her hand down her perfectly straightened dark hair.

  Out of our group, Trieste and I had the least in common. She was all about designer dresses, bling and eyelas
h extensions, and she abhorred sports (unless it was watching boys play), but we'd been friends since junior high so there was some sort of compulsion to hang out, even though our directions had diverged considerably. We did, however, both have a passion for saving the whales.

  "Do you want to go out?" Taylor Jensen asked, as effortlessly as if he was a fast food worker wanting an order. Though it was an absurd thought that he would ever work in fast food.

  Trieste gasped, making me think the question was for her. But the look of perplexity on her face made me realize Taylor's eyes were focused solely on me.

  "Whaaaaat?" I glanced at my friends, wanting some assistance, some guidance, but their faces were showing the shock I was feeling. "Me?" Taylor grinned, baring his gleaming teeth. "Me?" I repeated in disbelief. Ella moved closer to me, cutting off the circulation to my arm.

  "Yeah," Taylor nodded, "you, Dominiiiique." And he gave me a cheeky wink.

  Taylor Jensen, in all his cuteness, in real life flesh and blood, had just asked me out. My heart started palpitating. I had no clever or quick witted comeback. In a squeaky voice that didn't sound like me, I heard myself say, "I don't date."

  "You don't date Dominique?" I detected a hint of condescension, obviously he hadn't been rejected before, and the wild look in Ainsley's eyes told me I was being a fool, an idiot, a complete jerk. My secret crush had boldly and brazenly asked me to go out and I'd declined! Ella tugged at my arm, Trieste glared at me, someone's legs kicked mine under the table and Ainsley's eyes were practically on stalks.

  Taylor, meanwhile, stood there smirking.

  "No, I don't date," I said in a rush, gathering my things together and removing myself from Ella's grip, "my schedule is busy. Super busy. And my dad is strict. He's super strict." I stood, and unable to look either Taylor or the equally gorgeous Logan in the eye, dashed off.

  A scraping of chairs and a shuffling of footsteps followed, and by the time I was at the exit Ella had reclaimed my arm and Ainsley and Selina were in hot pursuit. We instinctively headed for the bathroom.

  "O.M.G," Ainsley squealed. "Taylor just asked you out and you said no!" She shook my shoulders. "What is wrong with you, Domi?" She looked like someone who was possessed by demons, and I was about to say so, but she gushed on. "Logan and Taylor were at our table Domi! Taylor asked you on a date! And you turned him down!" She rolled her eyes so hard I thought I'd never see them again.

  "Calm down," I said, with the pretence that I was in control. Truth is my heart was racing at a thousand beats per minute, my palms were perspiring and my legs felt wobbly. It was like I'd gone into my own little bubble because even though lips were moving, I couldn't hear anything of what Ainsley, Ella and Selina were saying. And then Trieste burst through the door, her hands covering her mouth with theatrics fit for drama club.

  "Are you crazy Dominique?" I assumed it was a rhetorical question. "Do you know what you just did? DO YOU KNOW?"

  I wrapped my arm around Ainsley's waist, pulling her against me. I needed her physical support. Being taller than her, it meant her head rested on my shoulder. I clung to her, trying to get my strength back in my legs, trying to understand what had happened.

  I bit my lower lip, then whispered, "Did Taylor Jensen just ask me for a date?"

  There was a moment of silence, and then the five of us burst into a spontaneous roar of laughter and gathered in a group hug.

  The episode was discussed, analyzed and dissected, but I felt sure Taylor had not been serious, that he'd been fooling around because of Trieste's comments. He would never have any interest in me, and I was sure that in a few days time we would all shake our heads and laugh about The Day Taylor Jensen Asked Out Dominique. Then I hoped it would fall into the category of Things to Never Talk About Again, like the time I did a back flip in gym class and slipped and crashed into two other students, taking them both down. Or the time Ainsley was driving and we were arguing about the music playing, and she'd had to slam her brakes at a crosswalk, coming within inches of knocking down a mother pushing her baby stroller. Our heart rates had taken a week to return to normal, and we'd never told anyone about it. Or disagreed on music choice again.

  But the next day Taylor walked by me in the hallway and smiled as he bumped my shoulder. The day after he nodded at me across the parking lot. I started to spend longer on my makeup and hair. I touched up my lip gloss and sprayed on perfume between classes.

  He sent me a friend request and followed my social media accounts. He started to park his car close to mine. He again asked if I wanted to go out. I told him I was very time poor. I did gymnastics training four afternoons a week, I babysat on Friday nights, I worked on Saturday evenings, and then I had gymnastics all day Sunday. After several weeks of being rejected, Taylor Jensen asked me out on a Tuesday.

  I had no activities on a Tuesday, but told him my father disapproved of midweek dates. He wanted to ask my father himself. I said it was impossible to know when my father would be home, that he worked irregular hours, had no set routine, which in itself wasn't a total lie. As a freelance graphic designer he sometimes worked from home, sometimes went to a client's office, and sometimes worked out of town.

  Taylor Jensen ended up knocking on my front door the evening my father was at home and I wasn't. I was visiting my older half-brother, Cassian who lives two blocks from us. That's exactly a four minute walk, or a two minute run.

  On this particular day, I'd gone by after supper to say hello and to freeload an ice cream or sweet treat. My mother was perennially on a diet and had taken the liberty of banning sugar in our household. She nibbled away on celery sticks as if she was some sort of martyr, and frowned and glared if Dad happened to bring home cookies or heaven forbid, donuts. I found it was easier to get my sugar fix at Cassian's house.

  After helping my niece Daniela into bed and reading her a story, I set off for home at a light jog, remembering I had some science homework to complete. My jog turned into a full on sprint when I saw the red car outside my house. Taylor Jensen's red Audi.

  I raced through the front door, but paused in the hallway to slip off my shoes and catch my breath. I padded along to the kitchen which is where I could hear my father's voice.

  “Oh, here she is now," Dad said smugly, as I appeared in the doorway, "Thought that was you crashing through the front door."

  I flashed him a sarcastic smile, turning my gaze to Taylor Jensen. He was sitting in a slouched position at the dining table, as if he lived here. He straightened, and then stood.

  "What are you doing here?" I tried to inject some lightness into my voice, but I was an inner contradiction of fury and excitement.

  Taylor put his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leaned his weight on one leg. He looked sexy doing that. He stood around like that at school...a lot.

  "I was just asking your Dad if I could take you out," Taylor said, with all the confidence that indicated he'd already been given permission. "On a Tuesday night," he continued, "since you're busy every other day of the week." The beginnings of a smirk lurked at the corners of his mouth.

  I looked from Taylor to Dad. That tough, hard-nosed, no-nonsense, stern, inflexible authoritarian was smiling like he and Taylor were now besties. Dad leaned his hip against the kitchen island as if striking a pose, "And I said yes, if that's what my Blossom wants."

  I glared, rolled my eyes, poked my tongue out at him — all at the same time. And calling me Blossom? Sure, it was his pet name for me, but privately, within the family. It was like he was sucking up to Taylor Jensen, not the other way around.

  "So, Dominique?" Taylor stepped in before I could verbalize any of my thoughts, "Would you like to go out with me? Maybe a movie and something to eat?"

  "What movie?" Dad interrupted, a little too keenly, confirming that he was indeed suppressing his true feelings.

  "Why?" I snapped, "Will you be joining us?" I gave him my wide-eyed, you're-an-idiot glare, hoping Taylor didn't see it, but Dad just chuckled.


  Taylor offered a tentative, "Um, we can see whatever Dominique wants."

  Dad came and put his hands on my shoulders, he kissed my cheek and winked, then turned to Taylor. "She's got a ten thirty curfew."

  "Yes sir," Taylor said, and he let out a long breath after Dad left the room. I did too.

  "My Dad's so embarrassing," I said, scared to look Taylor in the eye. I inspected my fingernails.

  "No, he's pretty cool," Taylor said. He reached out for my hands and I looked up from under my eyelashes, feeling myself blush. "So, Tuesday then?"

  I nodded with a smile and he held my hands a little firmer, his face coming a little closer. I shuddered nervously. Having Taylor Jensen this close was overwhelming, his dark eyes lingering on mine. I couldn't hold his gaze and looked away, noticing the pores on his nose and mottled freckles scattered across his cheeks.

  "Dominique," he said, and his fingers entwined with mine, his body so close I shuddered again, but it wasn't nervousness now, it was something else. Something that made me inhale sharply. Taylor leaned in, his lips pressing on my forehead. I liked it, oh my, I liked it, but I had a vision of my father bursting back into the room and pulled myself back.

  "Let's save that for the date," I said, checking behind me for my father's skulking shadow.

  Taylor laughed. "Okay. So, that's a yes?"

  "Yes," I whispered. I wouldn't put it past Dad to be eavesdropping from the hallway. "You better go," I said, herding him towards the front door.

  Taylor seemed to be in no hurry to leave, but I could hear my mother's footsteps coming down the stairs and I didn't want this unexpected situation to continue longer than was necessary. Taylor had my father's permission, the date was set for two days away, there was no reason for him to hang around.

  "So I'll see you then," I said.

  “Yes, you will," Taylor said, his fingers brushing my hair back off my face. "I like your hair down." His fingers lingered on my skin, and then ran lightly through a few strands of hair. “It looks good." I made a mental note to wear my long, dark brown hair out more often, usually I braided it being much easier for gymnastics.