The things Dad said were true, but he also knew what he was doing. He wanted to see if saying something like that would get a rise out of Taylor. I wanted to see it, too, but I would never be so bold as to actually say it.
My dad was a different story. He wasn't shy at all, and he wanted to see if Taylor showed any reaction. The bad thing was, I could not call my father out on it. I had to act like I didn't even know what he was doing.
Taylor didn't do anything outwardly, but there was a reaction. I didn't know if Dad could notice it since he wasn't sitting next to him, but the reaction was there.
"Do you like football?" Taylor asked.
He was talking to me.
I nodded, glancing at him. "I do."
"Do you know all the rules and everything?"
"She knows more about football than most men," Dad said. "She likes soccer, too. She calls soccer football, and football, she calls American football."
Taylor glanced at me, and I smiled at him somewhat apologetically before glancing at my dad. I gave him a wide-eyed expression, silently begging him to stop, but he pretended not to see me. He liked Taylor, and he knew I did, too, so he was pushing extra hard. I was so thankful we were pulling up to the hotel.
My dad hesitated, staying in the car to say something to Harry and probably pay him. It was for this reason that I got out on Taylor's side. He reached in to offer me a hand, and put my hand in his with no hesitation. He knew just where to stand and just how much assistance to give me in getting out of the car. In those brief seconds, while I was standing up, I considered how much practice he had at it. In his line of work, he had no doubt, helped a few ladies out of cars.
"Thank you so much, Blue Stone." He said the words as soon as I got to my feet. He knew as well as I did that we would only have a few seconds of privacy before my dad got out of the car. I could tell he was trying to be sincere with me, and it made my heart begin to race again. I was already on edge from the accidental leg touching, and now he was saying my whole, God-given name—first and last.
"Thank you, Taylor Patterson," I said, hoping my voice didn't betray how shaken I was. "I’m so glad you came."
"I'm so very glad I came," he said. "That would have been really terrible if I hadn't."
For some reason, his words struck me as funny and I let out a little nervous giggle.
He stared at me. I could tell he was looking at my mouth—at my smile.
"All right, we're all set." My dad's words broke my trance, and I began walking toward the hotel door.
"How was your evening?" the doorman asked the question when he saw us walking that way.
It wasn't Josh.
Taylor answered him, asking a question or two of his own as we made our way into the lobby. Taylor walked Dad and me to the elevator. He thanked us both for the evening and said what a good time he had.
I could tell he didn’t want to leave me.
At least I hoped that's what he was thinking.
I thought it was.
I was certainly thinking that I didn't want to leave him. I pretended to be casual, and so did he, but both of us glanced at each other with expressions that were reluctant and tinged with regret.
"Karen will get with you on your passes," Dad reminded him.
I wanted to tell him that he could change his mind and come to the game early if he wanted to, but I couldn't decide how to say it without seeming desperate.
"Night," I said instead, knowing the elevator door was about to close. Dad had already pressed the button. It was too late to say anything big.
"Night," Taylor said. "Thanks again," he added just as the doors closed completely.
He and I had held eye contact until the very last second, and I breathed a long sigh after the doors closed.
"Oh, my gosh," my dad said, laughing as he spoke. "What was that?"
"What was what?" I asked, defensively.
"You two. Staring at each other."
"No, we weren't. He was talking to you as much as he was talking to me."
"Okaaay," Dad said, shaking his head at me like I was delusional.
"You're the one who kept talking me up in front of him," I said.
"I wasn't talking you up," Dad said seriously. "If anything, I was holding back."
I didn't know what to say to that. It was sweet, and I knew he loved me and he meant it.
We rode the elevator in silence for a few seconds before arriving at the 11th floor. We got halfway down the hall to our room, and I stopped in my tracks.
"I'll be right back," I said.
"I knew it," dad said. "I called that in my head."
"You knew what?"
"That you were going to make an excuse to go back down there. I could tell by the way you were looking at each other. What are you going to do, go downstairs looking for a toothbrush or something?"
I was completely stunned.
I didn't know what to say.
I was planning on doing exactly that.
Literally, a toothbrush.
I wanted to see Taylor one more time, so I was going to go back down to the front desk to ask for a toothbrush. It was obviously a stupid plan if my dad mentioned it as a joke.
"No, I wasn't." I said lying defensively. "I wasn't even going to the lobby." I glanced across the hall at the door that led to the stairs. I could see the little sign with the picture of a staircase and everything. "I was gonna do a few flights of stairs," I said. "Like down to the eighth or seventh floor—try to get a little exercise since my clock's still kind of off."
Dad glanced at the stairway door with an expression like he believed me. "There's probably a gym downstairs. In fact, I know there is."
"That's all right," I said, opening the door to the stairs. "I’m just gonna do a few flights right here… just to get my blood flowing."
Dad nodded at me before taking off toward the suite.
The staircase was all grey and made of concrete blocks, just like every scene in a movie where someone was getting chased. I smiled and began walking down the stairs, wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into. I took the stairs slowly, but the more I walked, the more I seemed to relax. It was quiet in there. All I could hear was the small taps of my footsteps and the echoes that went with them. I listened to the soft, hollow sound as I took the stairs one-by-one.
There were two flights of stairs and a landing between each floor. I got into a slow rhythm on each flight, and then, when I would round the landing, I always looked at the door to see what floor I was on.
I had passed the doors for floors ten and nine and was on my way to the eighth floor when I heard someone else in the stairway.
I stopped for a second to listen for footsteps, and I quickly realized the noise was getting louder, closer. I turned, heading back up, toward the ninth floor. It was a public building. It shouldn't surprise me that someone was using the staircase. But the intrusion was unexpected, and it made me feel nervous and in a hurry. I decided, as I walked toward the ninth floor, that I would get off of the stairs there and take the elevator up to the eleventh. I realized as I walked up the stairs that it would have been much closer for me to go down and exit on the eighth floor, but it was too late now. I had committed to walking upward. I was almost to the landing at the ninth floor door when I heard someone speak from behind me.
"Blue. Is that you? What are you doing?"
I stood completely still.
I felt like I was in a dream.
I did not expect Taylor to be the person coming up the stairs, but that was exactly who it sounded like. I had a couple of steps left to go before I got to the landing, but I was frozen in place on the stairs. Stiffly, I turned to look behind me, smiling when I saw him.
My heart was about to beat out of my chest.
It was so weird seeing him there—surreal, really.
He was still on the set of stairs below mine, but I could see him from the shoulders up, peering up at me with a curious smile. I turned and took a slow
step toward him as he took a step toward me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again, slowly.
"I could ask you the same thing," I said, feeling completely breathless and shaken.
Taylor had taken off his sweater and was now just wearing the long-sleeve plaid shirt that he had on underneath it. The cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled, and his collar was open. I scanned his appearance as I slowly stepped downward to the landing between the eighth and ninth floors.
Chapter 9
The staircase was grey and empty, and somehow, miraculously, out of the great drab emptiness, came Taylor. I stepped down onto the landing and positioned myself in the corner, leaning against the wall as I turned to look at him. I tried to appear casual. Taylor came to stand near me with a kind, curious smile.
"What in the world are you doing here, Blue? Why are you here, on the stairs?"
"I was thinking about coming down to get a… I was gonna see if the front desk had tooth—" I paused and sighed, knowing he could hear how shaken I was in my voice. "No reason," I said. "Exercise."
I took a deep calming breath. I could see Taylor's chest rising and falling as he steadied his breathing as well. Of course, he would be out of breath. He had just come up nine flights of stairs. I had only gone down a few. I had no excuse.
"Do you need a toothbrush?" he asked.
"No," I said.
Out of panic-induced honesty, I almost added that it was just a ploy to get downstairs to see him, but I thought better of it at the last second.
"What are you doing in the stairway?" I asked. I glanced around. "Checking the fire extinguishers or something?"
Taylor gave me a little grin, taking a step closer to me. He turned and found a place next to me with his back against the wall. He was standing only a foot or two from me now, and I looked him over, taking in little insignificant things like the stitching on his shirt and the trimmed hair of his sideburns. I sighed again, trying to get control of my breathing.
He glanced at me. "I wasn't checking the fire extinguishers."
"What are you doing, then? Exercising, like me?"
"I guess," he said. "I guess you can call it that. I was hoping for this exact thing to happen, if you want to know the truth."
"What exact thing?" I asked.
He glanced at me with a grin. "This," he said, nodding once toward me.
I smiled. But I was weak in the knees at the fact that he wasn't joking. My stomach was alive with jitters, butterflies. I leaned against the handrail for support. "So, you were hoping to run into someone in the staircase?" I asked.
"Yep," he said. "Not just anyone, though."
He was going to say he wanted to run into me.
I knew he was going to say it, and my insides were absolutely buzzing with adrenaline. I felt alive with nerves—like I was in the top two at the very end of the Miss Universe pageant, and they were about to announce the winner. I desperately wanted Taylor to say that he specifically wanted to run into me in that stairwell.
He leaned against the wall, seeming content to leave his statement at that.
"How many staircases are in this building?" I asked.
"Two inside and one outside. So, three."
"Plus, the elevators," I added.
Taylor nodded. "Yes. Two of those, and a freight elevator."
We stood there for a few seconds.
"It's kinda crazy," I said. "Running into you here. In this one."
Taylor moved to come even closer. He came to stand right in front of me and a little to my side. He was less than a foot away, now. Our bodies were almost touching. I leaned my head against the wall so that I could stare up at him. I felt like I might actually break into pieces. The levels of desire and anticipation flowing through my body in that moment were unprecedented. I wanted him to kiss me so badly that I was in danger of grabbing him and pulling him to me.
"Blue, when we… a minute ago when we… when we said goodbye… I wanted… there was something I didn't get to say."
I leaned against the brick wall, not breathing as I stared up at him. "What was it?" I managed to ask.
"It was that I…" Taylor spoke slowly, absentmindedly, as if losing his concentration in the middle of what he was saying. He stared at me, his green gaze roaming all over my face. He seemed to me like some kind of predatory animal. "I… I don't remember." He shook his head as he spoke.
I smiled. "You don't remember?" I asked.
He shook his head absentmindedly as he continued to scan my face. "I don't even know what I was saying. I have no idea what we were talking about."
"You said there was something you didn't get to say to me," I said. "What did you want to say?"
"I don't know what it was," Taylor said, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "I didn't plan anything past this moment. I didn't plan this, actually. I never thought you'd… I never imagined you'd actually be in here."
I stared at him for several seconds. The air between us was charged, but neither of us said anything. I glanced to the side and upward, to the door that lead to the ninth floor. I bit my lip. "I guess I'll be going up to my room, then." I delivered the words with such a lack of enthusiasm that Taylor's smile broadened.
"I guess so," he said. "And I guess I'll be going down to mine." Besides a slight shrug, he didn't move at all. It didn't look like he was in a big hurry to go anywhere.
"Yeah," I said. "It was nice seeing you. I'm glad I ran into you in here."
"Me too," he said. "Like you said, what are the chances?"
We both spoke slowly, staring at each other and relishing the awkward pauses between our conversation. I felt like we were about to either kiss passionately, or turn to say goodbye. I could not tell which was about to happen.
I didn't want to walk away from him.
"l like your shirt," I said, stalling.
I glanced downward, biting the inside of my cheek before looking at him again.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow grin. "You like my shirt?" he asked, wearing a tiny smirk as he held eye contact.
I nodded, glancing nervously at the collar and his shoulder. "I like the colors," I said. "White with that purple and pink and green."
He inched slightly closer, and my eyes met his again.
"I liked what you said back at Mitch's house, too," I added, feeling like I should do something better than list the colors of his shirt.
"About what?" he asked.
"Everything," I said. "Your hotel and… just everything. I liked everything you said."
He gave me another amused grin. "I liked everything you said, too," he said. He moved again, stepping closer even still.
"I'm really glad you're coming to the game tomorrow—" I barely had the words out of my mouth when he kissed me.
He did it in a swift, sudden but gentle moment. Taylor ducked, expertly aiming his lips to mine. I stretched up instantly, meeting him, letting him know I wanted this to happen. I reached up, touching the side of his face as we kissed once, twice, three, and then four times. He pulled back and looked at me after the fourth kiss, and my hand dropped from his face.
He ducked and kissed me again. I leaned up to kiss him back, but this time my hands were positioned on his shoulders. Absentmindedly, I grabbed his shirt, taking fistfuls of the material at his shoulder for leverage. I couldn’t help myself. It was a natural reaction to the spine-tingling, toe-curling effects of his kiss. His mouth was perfectly full and soft, and it felt exactly how I thought it would. His touch was tentative and gentle, and it caused an aching sensation inside me.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling back just enough to break contact with me.
He kissed me again, but instantly pulled back a second time.
"I'm sorry for doing this," he said. "I can't seem to help myself."
He kissed me again.
"I'm going to stop. I promise."
Kiss.
"I'm sorry, Blue. I'm trying. I know you need to get back to your…"
"Room."
Kiss.
"I didn't mean to do it, I just… I’m sorry."
Kiss.
Kiss.
"That was the last one."
I giggled, shaking my head at him, and he kissed me again.
"Okay, I swear, that was…"
Kiss.
"This one, right here, this is the…"
Kiss.
"Last."
Kiss.
"One."
Kiss.
"Oh, my gosh."
Kiss.
"Bluuue."
Kiss.
He let that last one linger on my mouth for what must have been ten seconds. Our lips, just touching, unmoving. I wanted him to kiss me deeper, but it wasn't going to happen tonight. I knew he was waging an internal battle with how far he had already taken it. I could feel that he was holding back, being intentionally gentle.
"I'm glad I'm going to the game tomorrow, too," he whispered.
He pulled away, taking a small step back. His eyes were shut tightly as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," I said. "I'm sorry, too."
"No, it was my fault. Really, I shouldn't have. I just didn't think I would run into you in here, and when I did, and you were… I just… I never, ever, ever, do things like this, so…"
He leaned in quickly, and snuck one last kiss in. This one was a little harder because he was moving swiftly.
"I'm sorry," he said again, causing me grin at him. "I'm really gonna go this time. I have to go downstairs."
He started to break away so that he could start climbing down the stairs, but then he turned around, regarding me. "Do you need anything? From downstairs? A toothbrush? Some chocolate milk?"
I let out a laugh. "Chocolate milk?"
"Anything?" he asked with a sweet smile.
I shook my head.
He continued smiling at me as he started to walk off. "I'm sorry about that," he said again.
"I'm not," I said.
He was already down two steps, but I watched with delight as he spun around and headed back to me. He stopped when he was directly in front of me, looking me straight in the eyes and causing me to squirm a little. "What did you say?" he asked.
The Suite Life (The Family Stone Book 1) Page 7
