9

Christian cracked open an eye and winced when the bright light of the morning sun hit him in the face. The heaviness of his body and the churning of his stomach reminded him of the night before. At least the parts of it he could remember. There were serious chunks of time missing from his memory and he couldn’t believe that he’d actually drunk so much that he’d blacked out. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened to him.

His mouth tasted like cardboard and his throat was screaming out for some kind of liquid, so he slowly eased up from his reclined position on the couch to attempt a trek to his kitchen when his hand brushed against something soft. He blinked and looked down. — Taylor?

He slowly sat up to get a better look. It was Taylor. What was he doing in his apartment?  Christian’s forehead wrinkled as he wracked his brain for an explanation as to why Taylor was slumped on his floor, head resting against the front of his sofa. Almost instantly, pieces of the night before flooded his consciousness. He remembered calling Taylor when he’d grown bored of the company he was keeping. He vaguely remembered seeing him at the club and feeling happy at the kid’s presence and that was pretty much all he could remember.

Taylor shifted and Christian looked down, watching as he slowly eased into wakefulness. Taylor blinked a few times, then jerked up abruptly, his head swivelling from left to right as if he was trying to situate himself. He must have recalled because his head whipped around, and his dark eyes fell on Christian’s face.

Christian cleared his throat and attempted a smile. “Morning,” he said, voice hoarse.

Taylor eyed his face for a second and his mouth twitched, like he was holding back a smile and then Christian’s words seemed to sink in because his eyes widened. “Morning? As in Monday morning?” He hopped up from his position on the floor. “I have class! Shit. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Okay calm down.” Christian looked at his watch. “It’s nine. When’s your class?”

“At ten! But I still have to go home, shower, and get my stuff. There’s no time!” Taylor groaned, grabbing his head.

Christian closed his eyes, attempting to block out the flurry of movement before him. “Lectures right? So you need what? Paper? Pen? I have that. You need to shower? It just so happens that my apartment has this mystical thing called a bathroom and if you can find something in my closet that fits you, you can borrow it.” He opened his eyes and looked squarely into Taylor’s surprised face. “Okay?”

“I – I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Taylor mumbled.

“You have something against my house?” Christian asked, brows raised.

Taylor waved his hands quickly. “No, no. Your place is great, I just don’t, uh, don’t think...What would George and people at the restaurant say?”

“What’s there to say? It’s not a big deal.” Christian shrugged. “Besides, who’s gonna tell?”

Taylor tried to come up with a reason not to stay. She’d been stunned enough, waking up to those deep blues, and now he expected her to shower in his bathroom and wear his clothes? There was a shocking intimacy to it that was frightening.

He was rumpled, she noticed, looking at him again. She stared at the doodles she’d recklessly made on his face and had to admit again that he was still as cute as ever, black marker and all. His hair was tousled in that just got out of bed kind of way that was disturbingly appealing. It wasn’t fair that someone could wake up hung-over with a drawn moustache on his face, and still look so damn attractive.

Taylor blinked at the thought. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t find him attractive at all. She wasn’t allowed to be attracted to him. Not now, not ever.

But they were friends of sorts. Amicable at the very least and if she continued to turn down his offer, he would start to question why and she really didn’t want that. As long as she was diligent, there was no way he’d find out something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I guess you’re right. If it’s cool with you, I’ll take up that offer.”

Christian lifted his shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. The bedroom’s straight down the hall, the bathroom’s attached.  Just grab whatever from the closet. Towels are in the bathroom cupboard.” He got up stiffly and made his way to the kitchen.

Realizing that she’d just been dismissed, Taylor made her way to his bedroom.  She pushed open the door and walked inside. Her first impression was of a space that was both warm and inviting. There were books, some old and worn, some new and pristine, on a wall length bookshelf. On a desk on the side, she noticed pads of paper amongst scattered paints and pencils. And in the middle of it all was his neatly made bed, large and intimidating. She looked away from it quickly and turned to his closet. 

What an enigma he was, she thought as she gaped at the immaculately organized closet. He was both neat and disorganized. Creative and yet pragmatic. Christian was completely indefinable and she didn’t know what to make of it. She hesitantly pulled open a drawer and was relieved that it was only full of t-shirts. She grabbed one and shut the closet door, opting to wear her own pants rather than attempting to wear any of his.

She hurried into the modern bathroom and locked the door behind her. After quickly removing her clothing, she walked into his large shower stall. She turned on the water and sighed as the water hit her. He had one of those fancy rain showerheads that was soothing against her skin. It definitely beat what she had at home.

She sighed. It must be nice to be this well off and not have to worry about money, to be able to have nice things. One day, she told herself, she would have all this and more. She just had to keep going, keep working and one day, she’d have the life she deserved.

When she was done, she turned off the shower and walked out of the stall. Her skin was sore where she had bounded her breasts with cloth strips. She normally didn’t sleep in them and she was paying for it now. The strips were uncomfortable but they worked in a way that her sports bra couldn’t, making her flat, square, and decidedly unfeminine. She picked them up and began to wrap them around her breasts. This is ridiculous, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror. This was straight out of a Shakespearean play.

Maybe it was time to come clean. She was tired of pretending to be something she wasn’t and she hated all the lying. All this subterfuge was exhausting. Maybe if she told Christian everything, explained to him her fears, he’d understand. Maybe he’d get a kick of it.

She threw on the rest of the clothes, liking the feel of his oversized shirt on her skin, and smiled. Christian did have a decent sense of humour. They could laugh about how silly the whole thing was. And after last night, he owed her a little patience.

Resolutely, she hurried out of his room, zipping up her sweatshirt as she walked. She was going to tell him. It would be fine. Everything was going to be fine. She repeated the words in her head as she walked into the living room.

Christian was laying on his couch, two steaming cups of coffee resting on the end table beside him. She stepped towards him just as his eyes opened.

“Have something before you leave,” he said, motioning to the coffee cup as he sat up in his seat.

“Thanks.” She reached for the cup with a smile and took a sip. “Just how I like it,” she said, looking at him in surprise.

“Why are you surprised? I’m incredible at my job,” he said with a cocky grin.

Taylor snorted and took another sip.

They sat in an easy, companionable silence while they drank their coffee and Taylor knew that if she was going to come clean, now was the time. Taking a deep breath, she began, “Christian...”

His eyes were closed again; head resting against the back of his couch, the mug nestled between his hands. “Hmm.” The sound came deep from this throat and it sent a shiver down her spine.

She suddenly lost her nerve. “Umm... what happened last night?” she asked, veering in an entirely different direction.

He opened his eyes, head tilting to the side to look at her. “You tell me,” he said. “I don’t remember most of it.”

Taylor thought about the night before and a smile tugged at her lips. It was pretty funny now that she thought about it. She told him about how he’d called her out in the middle of the night, passed out at the club and how she had to drag his heavy ass into his apartment.

He shook his head and laughed. “Sounds like I was a gigantic pain in the ass.”

She nodded and shrugged. “Yup, but since that’s pretty much every day with you, it was no biggie.”

“Hilarious,” he said dryly, his mouth quirking up again. His eyes crinkled when he smiled and it made her breath catch in her throat. He was too cute. The kind of cute that you could stare at for hours without getting bored.

He raised both brows at her and she realized with a start that she was staring. She cleared her throat and looked down at her cup.

“So...What was that about last night? You seemed...” she paused, biting her lip. “You didn’t seem yourself—I mean, not that I’d know or anything, but even Carson thought something was wrong...” Her voice drifted off awkwardly.

He set his mug down on the table and shrugged nonchalantly. “Long story short? My dad’s an asshole,” he said it with a laugh but his eyes were humourless.

Taylor was shocked. How could he say that about his father? “You should be happy you have one,” she blurted out.

His eyes flew to hers. “Your father, he’s...” he hesitated.

“He died of a heart attack when I was a kid. I barely remember him.” But she remembered his hugs. Big, warm hugs that made her feel safe.

“But isn’t your brother—”

“Josh is my half brother. His father’s still alive ... unfortunately.” She didn’t comment further, not wanting to air her family’s dirty laundry to Christian. Josh’s father was a “producer” who’d tricked her mother into spending thousands on helping him with his so-called production company, promising her fame and fortune when he hit it big. When the money ran out, so had he.

“I don’t know what your family life is like but your dad trusts you enough to give you a business to run. How many fathers do that for their kids? How many can? You’re lucky.” Christian had so much. What did he have to complain about?

Christian’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m sorry about your loss but you’re right, you don’t know a damn thing about my life. One month working beside me doesn’t make you an expert.”

“I didn’t say I—,”

He cut her off before she could finish her thought. “My father wasn’t around my entire life. He was always on some business trip or at the office or having an affair with his secretary,” he said with a bitter laugh. “And when he was home, all he did was complain about what I was doing wrong, how I was failing him. How I got a B+ instead of an A. How I struck out at my baseball game.” He ran his hand through his hair. “He’s never believed in me and the feeling’s mutual. We’ll never get along. That’s just how it is.”

Taylor bit her lip. Something about the way he said it made her heart hurt. As much as he wanted to hide it, his bad relationship with his father really bothered him.

“Is that why you got drunk last night? You got into it with your dad?”

He hesitated before he nodded. “He got on my case about the Brew House. He couldn’t wait to tell me how much I was failing him again. Typical Sunday dinner at the Laurent family house,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Poor, little rich boy,” he said with a self-mocking smile. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

He stood up and carried his mug to the kitchen. “You should probably get going. It’s almost ten.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She wanted to stay longer and talk to him. It was refreshing to see Christian be vulnerable, to know that he wasn’t perfect, that he had struggles and worries just like she did. It made him feel real to her for the first time, not just the cool, good-looking boss that had it easy, but the twenty something guy who didn’t have all the answers.

She stood up and grabbed her things as he came back out of the kitchen. “I— I just want to say something.” She didn’t know if it was her place to say anything, if she even had the right, but she decided to anyway.

Christian leaned against the kitchen opening and waited.

“I can’t speak for your father, I can only speak for myself. And what I see is a guy who’s working really hard to make the Brew House successful. I’m sure serving people coffee is the last thing you want to do but you never act like it. You come in early - you’re always the last person to leave. You roll up your sleeves and work just as hard as –actually harder than the rest of us—and I really believe that that hard work will pay off one day.” She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. “As shocking as this may be to hear – and believe me, it’s more shocking for me to say it – I believe in you. You’re a total pain in the ass,” she said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that her face was burning. “But I do.”

He didn’t say anything and the silence stretched between them for a few awkward seconds before she finally worked up the nerve to look at him. Her heart leapt in her throat when her eyes met his own.

His mouth curved up in a soft smile. “Sometimes I think I’ve got you all figured out, Mooreland, and then I realize I’ve barely scratched the surface. Thank you,” he said, eyes softening. “And thank you for last night.”

“Now don’t get all emotional on me,” she joked, ignoring the way those soft blue eyes were playing havoc with her insides. “I’m going to go.”

She avoided his eyes and pulled her jacket over her sweatshirt. “Thanks for the shirt. I’ll give it back to you when I’m in tomorrow.”

She rushed towards the door and opened it just as Christian called out after her. “Hey Taye.” She turned and saw that he was still smiling at her. “See you tomorrow.”

She nodded. “See ya,” she said, letting the door swing closed behind her.

She walked to the elevator, thinking about the warmth in his eyes. She was developing the smallest, tiniest, little crush on Christian and she knew that she had to squash it before it turned into something bigger. It would have been bad enough if she weren’t pretending to be a guy but the fact that she was made matters even worse. She should have told him the truth when she’d had the chance.

His door swung open just as the elevator reached her floor. “TAYLOR! What did you do to my face?” Her eyes widened as he stepped towards her and she jumped into the elevator, pushing at the close button frantically.

As the elevator door closed, she got a brief image of him reaching out towards her but it slammed shut before he could do anything.

She slumped back against the elevator wall, a laugh erupting from her as she thought about the look on his face. She would definitely be on bathroom duty for that stunt but his reaction had made it all worthwhile.

She giggled the rest of the way down and by the time the elevator reached the lobby she was feeling better again. Maybe it wasn’t total doom and gloom after all. So she’d chickened out on the whole coming clean business but if they continued to be friends maybe, she’d earn a place in his heart, and when the truth came out, he’d be able to forgive her.

He would forgive her, wouldn’t he?