If Only by Village
Summary:

stories/187/images/ifonlysmall.png

 

Taylor Mooreland has more than her share of problems. Her mother's an irresponsible dreamer who's more interested in floating from audition to audition than she is in paying her bills. So, Taylor's got to keep the ship afloat, taking care of her little brother and working to help pay the bills while she's going to school. And if life wasn't difficult enough, now she's gotten herself into quite the mess with a guy who thinks she's a man.


Categories: Original Fiction, Miscellaneous Characters: Original Character(s)
Classification: General
Genre: Comedy , Drama, Friendship, Romance
Story Status: Completed
Pairings: None
Warnings: Un-betaed
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 16 Completed: Yes Word count: 48727 Read: 129493 Published: January 15 2009 Updated: June 09 2013
Story Notes:

Disclaimer

This story is inspired by the supremely adorable kdrama Coffee Prince. The characters and narrative are original but the concept and some situations are based on the drama. 

1. One by Village

2. Two by Village

3. Three by Village

4. Four by Village

5. Five by Village

6. Six by Village

7. Seven by Village

8. Eight by Village

9. Nine by Village

10. Ten by Village

11. Eleven by Village

12. Twelve by Village

13. Thirteen by Village

14. Fourteen by Village

15. Fifteen by Village

16. Author's Note by Village

One by Village

1

 

Christian Laurent shoved his backpack into the overhead compartment and slumped into his window seat. It was a beautiful, sunny day in Lisbon and a perfect day for flying. He ran his hand over his unruly hair and thought of the fright he was going to give his mother when she saw him. He wondered if she’d recognize the harder, darker, more disheveled version of himself who’d emerged while travelling the last two years.

Not that he had completely slummed it. He’d stayed at five stars and eaten three-hundred dollar meals just as often as he’d slept in hostels and stuffed himself at street stands. He’d always lived his life the way he pleased and he traveled much in the same way. There were no rules on how to backpack or any on how to enjoy the world, and if there were, they were meant to be ignored, if not broken.

He’d enjoyed bouncing between lifestyles and seeing the world. It had been a welcome respite from real life and responsibility. The people he’d met, the work he’d done, the places he’d been, he was grateful for it all and sorry that it was coming to an end. But home was beckoning. Reality, in the shape of his parents and a recovering grandmother, had taken a hold on him and he couldn’t put it off any longer.

His grandmother, the domineering matriarch that kept the family and the family business together, had just fallen ill, having suffered from a heart attack. Thankfully the, self-described, old broad was the strongest person he knew and had made it through the critical period. All she had to do now was recover and he was going to make sure that whatever it took, the recovery would be successful.

A shadow fell over his lap as someone sat in the seat beside him. He glanced to the side to see bright blue eyes staring back at him.

“Hi,” the brunette said smiling at him.

“Hello,” he replied, his lips tugging up at the corners.

She held out one hand. “I’m Angeline.”                                                                                                                        

“Christian,” he said, taking it in his. “Nice to meet you.”

He tried to release her hand from his but she held on tight and leaned into him. “You don’t mind if I stay close to you until we land do you? I’m deathly afraid of flying,” she said in a breathy voice.

He watched her thoughtfully before tilting his head slightly to the side. “Not at all.”

She inched closer, pressing herself against the hand rest. “You’re a doll, Christian. How will I ever make it up to you?” she purred, her face inches away from his.

His eyes fell to her lips before he looked back into her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he said softly.

Her eyes sparkled as she bit her lip. “I’m sure we will.”

Stifling a grin, Christian leaned back into his seat. This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to pick him up on a plane and he doubted that it would be the last.

He didn’t actually want anything from the woman. In fact, as soon as the plane landed, he expected their acquaintanceship to immediately end. She was cute and all but he went along with the flirtation because he found it amusing to play the game. The women he normally met were shallow creatures who more often than not fell for his outwardly appearance or his status. So it had become a kind of game for him to see how far they would go to get his attention.

Admittedly, the game was starting to lose its luster. It wasn’t as much fun to play when he knew how it would all play out. Not that women were throwing themselves at his feet on a daily basis, there were plenty of women who didn’t, but he could think of very few who, when he set his eyes on them, would say no to him.

Maybe it was a little arrogant to think this way, but it was reality as he knew it and he didn’t expect it to change anytime soon.

“Hey watch where you’re going, dude.”

“Hey watch who you’re calling a dude, dude,” Taylor Mooreland rejoined as she rubbed the shoulder that had been hit.

The guy gave her a once over and shrugged. “Whatever.”

Taylor made a face at his back before continuing on to the bus stop near her campus. This wasn't the first time that she’d been mistaken for a guy since she’d gotten her haircut and it wasn’t getting any less annoying. She supposed her school attire, which consisted mostly of hoodies and jeans, didn’t help matters, or the fact that her voice was lower than most girls, but it was still pretty insulting. 

She ran a hand over her now extremely short hair and for one brief moment missed the thick, shoulder length mane that she’d sported for so long. Having had long hair for over a decade, she’d desperately wanted a change and had cut it all off on a whim. Unsurprisingly she’d given her mother quite a shock, walking into the house with the extremely short, very natural hair style but she hadn’t regretted it and still didn’t. There was a certain sense of freedom having short hair that she really liked.

Taylor speeded up as she saw the bus turn the corner. As soon as she got on the bus and grabbed an empty seat near the front, she took out her phone and checked her messages.

“Taye, I’m off for the weekend.” Her mother’s excited voice filled the receiver. “I got word that there are a couple of open auditions in Vale. This could be it, T. I have a good feeling about this one. The auditions are over two days so I’ll be staying overnight. So, you’ll have to help me with Joshua for the next couple of days, okay doll? Love ya!”

Taylor gripped the phone with one hand, briefly contemplating how much trouble she would get into for throwing it across the bus. Thinking better of it, she slammed the phone shut with a childish pleasure.

Damn it, she thought with frustration, when was this going to end? Slouching down into her seat and resting her forehead against the window, Taylor tried to force her mind into a merciful emptiness but her mind refused to turn off.

Her mother had always been somewhat flighty and immature. She’d never been good at sticking to any job for any length of time. Taylor and her little brother Joshua had grown used to the highs and lows, the moving, the displacement, the unpredictability of their lives. But the last year had been even worse than usual.


Her mother had decided that she was going to rekindle her film career;  a career that had at one time consisted of a commercial for Sheen dishwashing soap (“If it isn’t  Sheen, It isn’t clean!”) and a stint as “Student #2” in a 1985 Nancy Drew miniseries – so the word “career” was probably a little generous. But, her mother had gotten into her head that acting was it for her. She was going to give it her all to make it work, “For the sake of the family” she liked to repeat ad nauseum when faced with Taylor’s frustrations.

It wasn’t that Taylor didn’t want her mother to be happy; she loved her and wanted the best for her but not at the sake of fulfilling her responsibilities. Because of her mother’s constant gallivanting to auditions and tests, Taylor was the one left holding down the fort: paying the bills, attending to the house and taking care of her ten year old brother Joshua. Plus she had a job and school to worry about.

There was so much on her plate that she was going a little crazy trying to manage it all. Some days she wanted to throw her hands in the air and run for the hills, but how could she? If she wasn’t there, how would Joshua manage? How would her mother survive?

So Taylor shoved away her frustrations, her resentment, and her anxiety and did the best she could. She tried to ignore the fact that so many in her age group were enjoying their freedom, partying and living it up, while she felt heavy with responsibility trying to keep her family afloat.

She glanced up and realized that she was about to miss her stop. She rang the bell and grabbed her bag, racing to the doors as the bus jerked stopped. She hopped off the bus with a sigh, slipping her bag over her shoulder and crossed the street to the rented townhouse they lived in. Stomping through the snow, she made her way up the walkway but stopped abruptly when she saw the man standing in front of her door. She made a swift turn to the right and ducked to the outside wall of the complex and waited.

The landlord was there again which meant her mother hadn’t paid the rent on time. Again. A sigh escaped Taylor’s mouth and the mist floated in the coldness temporarily before it disappeared. Taylor made sure they had a working phone … and heat … and food; why couldn’t her mother do the one, the one thing, she was responsible for?

Taylor waited a few more minutes before she peeked around the wall. Seeing that he’d left, she continued to her door and without looking around shoved her key into the lock and slipped safely into the house. Her bag slipped off her shoulder as she slumped against the door. Four months until school ended and then graduation. She held onto that, hoping that somehow everything would be better then. What could change then, she didn’t quite know but it kept her going. Soon things would be different.

They had to be.

 …

“Don’t you think it’s time you settled down? I know just the perfect girl for you.”

A freshly shaven Christian had barely time to warm the seat beside his grandmother’s bed before she hit him with the nauseating subject of marriage. When he’d said that he’d do whatever it took to make sure she recovered from her heart attack, he’d meant something along the lines of making her soup or reading her articles from the local newspaper not marrying whoever was the current debutante o’ jour.

“Grandma, I’m twenty-six,” he said, relaxing into the chair.

She shot him a stern look. “When I was twenty-six I was married, raising two kids and running your great grandfather’s business and I was a late bloomer,” she huffed.

“Dad didn’t get married until he was twenty-eight,” he rejoined.

“Your father had completed graduate school and been working in the company for years by that time. Did you become more educated and accomplished whilst gallivanting around the world?” she asked her eyes steely.

Christian coughed slightly but with a brazen blaséness he shrugged and grinned at her. She had a vaild point, he guessed, but he wasn’t going to actually admit it.

She huffed in the following silence for another moment before she let go of her stern appearance and let her affection for him shine through. Even when his grandmother managed to make him feel two feet tall, he knew that it was coming from a good place. Under the hard gaze and tough exterior was a person who loved him unconditionally.

He moved towards her bed and took her hand in both of his. “Grandma, I’m not getting married anytime soon but--wait,” he stopped her before she could interrupt. “But, I’ll let you set me up on a couple of dates. I just hope you realize that you and mom have spoiled me for all women. No one’s going to be able to live up to the ideal.” He grinned as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

“I won’t be moved by your flattery, you rascal,” she said, although the twinkle in her eyes belied the statement.

“I hope you can fit doing some work, somewhere in that hectic schedule of meeting women.”

Christian stiffened at the sound of his father’s voice. He looked across the room where his father stood in the center of the doorway and gave him a curt nod in greeting. “Father,” he said brusquely.

“Christian,” his father replied imitating his tone and moved further into the room.

Now that Christian could see him more clearly he noted that, other than a few more grey hairs, his father hadn’t aged at all in the last two years … nor apparently had he become more pleasant to deal with.

“Now that you’re back, I expect to see you at work in the next couple of days. I think it’s time you behaved like a grownup. Maybe finding out where the money you piss away so freely comes from, will teach you fiscal responsibility.”

Christian gritted his teeth, his jaw tensing in irritation. Two minutes in the same room as his father and he was ready to punch in a wall. His father refused to give him any credit. With his grandma out of service for the next little while he was more than willing to step in. As for “pissing away” money – it was his trust money to do with what he liked. Besides, spending money seeing the world wasn’t exactly the same thing as throwing it away at bars and cheap women.

“There’s no need to take on that tone, Graham,” his grandmother interjected. “Christian has already promised to start at the company first thing Monday morning. Please make sure that his integration goes smoothly.” While the last phrase was said pleasantly enough, there was no ignoring the demand in her voice.

“As long as he shows up and works hard, he should be just fine.” He walked up to her bed. “Patty and I are heading out for the evening. Do you want anything?” he asked.

“No thank you, Graham.”

“I’ll bring you something anyway,” he said kissing her on the cheek.

She rolled her eyes at him as he turned to leave. They were so alike, she thought.  They were so similar and they didn’t even realize it.

Christian watched his father leave and let out a heavily pent up breath. He was sure his father’s humourless personality would be ruining many of his days for the forseeable future so there was no point letting the man get to him now.

One thing was for sure though. His vacation was over.

Two by Village

 

2

 

“What are we doing here?” Christian asked as he glanced around the dingy shop that he and his father had entered.

His father ignored his question and continued to survey the room until he caught a movement outside the window. “Ah, here’s the man we’re here to meet.”

Christian followed the direction of his father’s gaze and saw a portly man in his fifties walking towards them.

“George, good to see you again,” his father said, shaking the man’s hand.

“Mr. Laurent, it’s always a pleasure.” George glanced at Christian. “Is this him?”

Christian raised his brow at the man’s curious gaze.

“Yes. This is my son Christian," his father said with a nod. “Christian, this is George Cabot. He’s your new partner.”

Christian’s brow rose even further. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you running this place with George.” His father’s tone was hard and unyielding. “This is a personal investment of mine – completely separate from the company – and I’ve asked George to help you manage it. He’s worked in the restaurant business for years and he’ll be of great help to you.”

Christian held up both hands and shook his head. “Hold on. I came back to help grandma and the company…I didn’t come back to play with one of your toys," he said derisively.

“You didn’t think I was just going to allow a novice to march into LGI and handle multi-million dollar investments, did you?” his father scoffed. “You want to help the company? Prove to me that you have the capability to do so by making this place a success. I’ll give you three months.” His father moved away from him and walked to the center of the room before turning to face him again. “Of course if you’re afraid of the hard work, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed. Clearly his father thought that if he hurt his pride, he would jump at the chance to prove him wrong but he didn’t have anything to prove to the man and there was no reason he had to play this little game with him.

No reason, but one.

At any another time he probably would have walked out and said to hell with the whole thing but he’d made a promise to his grandmother to get involved in the company and if this was the condition to do it, Christian had no choice but to comply.

He glanced at George briefly, noticing that the man was watching them silently, before looking back at his father. “I’ll do it but it’s not for you. I made a promise to grandma and I plan to keep it. ”

His father shrugged. “This is for your benefit Christian not mine. George,” his father called the man over. “I leave my son in your capable hands. Please advise him to the best of your ability.”

“Don’t worry,” George said with a grin. “You won’t recognize the boy when I’m done with him.”

Christian sent his eyes heavenward. It was going to be a very long three months.

Taylor was sick. Throat scratchy, nose running, eyes watering sick and she would have happily stayed home, drinking orange juice and coughing the day away, had it not been for the “turn it in on time or fail” term paper that was due that day.

To make matters even worse, she was running late which meant she was driving to school in the family hatchback in hopes that she’d get there faster than taking the bus. The problem was that she hated driving the hatchback which had seen better days … fifteen years ago. She just hoped to make it to class on time without the car breaking down or her hacking up a lung.

Suddenly a fit of sneezes took her making her eyes water. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and reached for the tissue box on the passenger seat but was met with air. She quickly glanced down, noticing with some annoyance that she was completely out of tissue.

Sniffling, she lifted her arm to wipe her nose but then thought better of it. She couldn’t very well spend the whole day wiping her nose with her sleeve. Glancing out her window, she noticed that a convenient store was just up ahead. It would only take a few minutes to get what she needed and then she could be back on her way. That decision made, she eased into the parking lot, grabbed her wallet and ran into the building.

A pack of strawberry cough drops and a bottle of water joined the box of Kleenex in her bag when she left the store a few minutes later. Getting back into the driver’s seat, she tossed the contents into the seat beside her and started the car. Now she’d really have to book it if she was going to make it to class on time.

Backing out of the parking spot, she put one hand on the wheel while the other fiddled with the heat. As usual, it was taking forever to kick in. She was so fixated on getting the heat to work that by the time she looked up again it was too late. Taylor heard the bang before she saw the evidence of what she had done.

No.

No, no, no, no, no… She looked into the rear view mirror and her mouth fell open.

Oh God.

She was so screwed.

Christian stared at the piece of junk attached to the side of his car in disbelief. Like today wasn’t going badly enough. He unbuckled his seat belt, opened the car door and slammed it closed. He walked over to the damaged area and grimaced. Shit, the car was embedded right in there.

He looked up as the driver of the vehicle opened the car door tentatively and stepped out of the car. He could feel his anger rising when he saw that the driver was just a kid. With the baggy jacket and the hoodie covering the boy’s head, Christian deduced that he could be no older than seventeen. This really was the last thing he needed right now.

The boy noticed Christian staring at him and rushed over. He looked down at the damage and Christian saw his eyes widen in alarm. “I-I … oh god,” he stuttered, looking up at Christian. “This is terrible.”

Christian closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Look kid,” he said directly, “just go and get your insurance information and we can both be on our way.”

Taylor’s heart dropped. Could this week get any worse? Her mother had come home from her weekend auditions, dropping the bomb that she’d used most of the rent money on accommodation and train fare to Vale. Instead of crying, yelling and throwing things across the room like she’d wanted to, Taylor had hauled herself to the bank for the rest of the rent money.

Maybe she’d done something terrible in her past life and was paying for it now. She didn’t know how it was possible for someone to have so much bad luck. Of course, when she had barely two pennies to rub together something like this had to happen. She had no idea how she was going to pay for the repairs. Insurance certainly wasn’t an option.

Because they rarely used the crappy old car, they’d stopped insuring it thinking it was a waste of money to pay for something they were barely using. It was another reason Taylor didn’t like driving the car.

She stared at the damage willing it to fix itself and wondered what to do. It was all so embarrassing, she thought. She didn’t want to look like one of those people. Those criminally irresponsible people like her mother, who drove without insurance and got into accidents because they weren’t paying any attention to what was happening around them.

She looked at the man surreptitiously. He didn’t exactly look forgiving. What if he wanted her charged because she didn’t have insurance? What if she was arrested?

Wait, could she go to prison for this?

Oh God, who would bail her out? How would they find the money? She’d be stuck in jail… Forget about her dreams, her goals … she’d spend her life in imprisonment! No that couldn’t happen. She didn’t want to die in a cell only to be mourned by her cellmate Bertha!

Taylor took a deep breath and mentally slapped herself. She was letting her imagination run wild and needed to calm down. There had to be a way out of this.

“Look, I know this is my fault and I’ll pay for it. I’ll definitely pay for it,” she rambled. “I’ll do anything to make this right but we can’t go through my insurance. It’s – it’s impossible.”

She could feel her heart racing in trepidation as she watched him fold his arms in front of him, frustration clearly written on his face. “And how do you intend to pay for this?”

She saw the opening and took it. “I don’t have a lot of money right now but I do have a steady job and if given some time, I could definitely pay for it in monthly installments,” she said and waited uneasily for his reaction.

If the exasperation on his face and the shaking of his head was any indication, he wasn’t exactly impressed by her suggestion.

And Christian really wasn’t impressed. He was pretty incredulous actually. Monthly installments? Who was this person? “You want to pay for the damages in installments,” he said scornfully, thinking that the boy was trying to pull one over on him. “And what do I do about my car while I’m waiting for you to save money?” he asked.

“Well…” the kid cleared his throat awkwardly, “…if you just went ahead and paid for the repairs now, I would definitely pay you back eventually…” his voice drifted off when a steely look entered Christian’s eyes.

“So, you want me to pay for the damages that you caused my car and trust that you’ll pay me back one day? Is that the gist of what you’re saying?” he asked sarcastically. Did the kid really think that he was going to fall for this? What a little scammer he was.

The boy shook his head and rubbed the back of his eyes with his hand. “I know it sounds crazy and in any other circumstance I wouldn’t even consider making this kind of suggestion but my situation at the moment is … difficult. I don’t want to beg but if I have to … Look, I’ll do anything if you give me this cha—” The sentence was abruptly cut off when a sudden fit of coughs came over the boy.

Christian eyed him warily. Either this was a ploy for sympathy or he really was sick. He soon realized it was the latter when the kid paused, hunched over miserably and continued with the hacking.

He edged closer, finding himself unwillingly concerned, and was just about to ask if everything was okay when the boy finally stopped coughing and looked up at him with an apologetic expression on his face. Something about that expression made Christian feel like he was being a complete ass.

Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. The kid looked pretty upset about the whole thing and judging from the state of his vehicle, he probably didn’t have extra money lying around. Not that that particularly fact eliminated the possibility that he was trying to scam him.

So what to do? One call to the police and the boy would have no choice but to pay up but that option was becoming less and less desirable. It would take too much time and be too much of a hassle for one but also, god help him, he was actually starting to buy this kid’s act.

“Hand me your phone,” he finally said with a sigh, hoping that he wouldn’t regret this leap of faith.

Taylor still feeling slightly horrified by her coughing fit, hesitantly reached into her coat pocket and handed him the phone. He punched a number into it and when his phone rang in response, she realized that he was logging her phone number.

“What’s your name?” he asked, handing her back the phone.

“Taye…” she said, “Taylor Mooreland. Actually, one sec...” She hurried over to her car and grabbed her backpack. After rummaging through it for a moment, she took out a card. It was her Findley U student card, a replacement one actually, if she was being technical. She’d recently lost her old one and had to get a new one to replace it.

She was glad to have it out of her sight for the moment. The new picture was just horrific. Something about her recently cut short hair, the tilt of her head, and the expression on her face had compiled together to make her look like a twelve year old boy. It was truly an embarrassing photograph.

“This is my id,” she said handing him the card and brushing aside her feminine vanity. “Take it as proof that I am who I say I am. I won’t need it for a couple of weeks anyway.”

He barely looked at the card and nodded. “Look, you’re not completely off the hook yet. I’ll head over to my mechanic soon to see what has to be done, so you should expect a call from me sometime this week.”

“You won’t regret it,” she said with relief. “I really appreciate this.”

The man nodded and turned away, punching a number on his phone as he went. “Hello? Yeah, hey. I’m going to need a tow…”

Watching him walk away, she let out a relieved sigh and sent a quick thank you out to the universe. He’d gone for it, she thought with surprise. He’d really gone for it. Twenty-something year old guys who drove expensive cars weren’t generally known for their charitability but it seemed that she had really lucked out.

She looked down at her cell phone and her stomach dropped when she saw the time. “Crap,” she muttered to herself. If she didn’t want to fail her class, she had to get out of there.

“Uh.” She walked over to him as he hung up his phone. “I hate to leave like this but I have this paper due and, umm, I’m going to fail if I don’t get it to school on time, so…” She glanced awkwardly at his car which was blocking her own.

For a second, Christian was back to feeling suspicious but he quickly brushed it aside. The kid – Taylor – did look pretty sheepish about having to leave.

He glanced over at the beat-up vehicle and wondered aloud, “Is it even fit for the road?”

“It’ll have to be,” Taylor said. “Again, I’m sorry to cut and run but I really have to go.”

Christian didn’t bother replying. Instead he nodded and headed towards his car.

“Thanks!” he heard Taylor call from behind him.

When they’d both carefully moved their cars and were in the clear, Taylor sent a brief nod his way and drove away.

Christian shook his head as he watched him go and looked down at the identification card. With surprise he realized that it was from Findley University, his alma mater. He looked at the date on the card and his eyes narrowed. It was about to expire in a few months which meant that the kid, unless he was some kind of whiz, was actually somewhere in his twenties. 

He thought of the undersized frame, the small face and the refined features and had a hard time reconciling the image with the age. Taylor Mooreland didn’t look like an adult male. At all.

Christian wondered if he’d been pandered to and babied all his life because of his looks – hadn’t he just fallen for the innocent face and given Taylor a break because of it? But if Taylor was an adult, that more than changed things.

Money was nothing to him, he could easily afford to pay for the damages himself, but the opportunity to have someone in his debt was too good to pass up. Taylor Mooreland had said he'd do anything.

And Christian was going to find out if he meant it.

 

End Notes:

Thank you for your feedback. Glad to see that there are some CP lovers lurking around, as well.

Three by Village

 

3

 

“Thanks for coming,” Christian said to Taylor as he eased back into his chair.

Taylor nodded nervously. Three days had passed since the accident and Christian, as he’d invited her to call him, hadn’t wasted any time in getting the estimates and calling her to meet up with him.

She watched him surreptitiously as he gripped the handle of his mug and took a sip of his coffee. Now that the stress of the incident had passed, she saw what she had been too anxious to notice before, that the man was incredible looking. She catalogued each feature with fascination. Dark brown hair tinged with gold, dark eyes that upon closer inspection were a unique shade of blue, a straight, patrician nose, chiselled cheekbones...

As her gaze fell lower, taking in broad shoulders and tanned, muscular arms, she noted that the body didn’t quite match the face. His arms looked like they’d been places that the face would never have gone. One belonged to the aristocracy; the other belonged to the working class.

Taylor looked back up and was startled when she saw that Christian was watching her. “How do I measure up?” he asked sardonically.

She groaned inwardly and considered sinking underneath the table now that she’d been caught staring at him but she forced herself to stay put. Instead, her eyes shifted up to his face, not quite meeting his own eyes, and she cleared her throat. “So, about the estimate…”

Christian noted the deflection but didn’t pursue it; he was thankful for the change of topic actually. He didn’t know why he’d made the comment. He rarely teased people he didn’t know, especially if they were male, but there was something about Taylor that made him want to rag on him a little.

Maybe it was the way those harmless looking, deep brown eyes of his wouldn’t quite meet his own, or the uneasy way he sat huddled in his thick coat, whatever it was, Christian would have to get over it quickly. Taylor might look innocent but he highly doubted that he was as harmless as he appeared.

Wasn’t that lack of innocence the very reason they were there now?

Grabbing the envelope containing the estimate out of his coat pocket, he passed it over to Taylor and waited for his reaction to the amount.

The proposed cost of the damage, repairs, parts and installation, was a little over three thousand dollars, which was affordable to him, but apparently not to Taylor if the way his eyes widened at the amount was any indication.

He picked up his coffee cup and took a large gulp of the hot liquid. “I’ll give you two months to pay it off,” he said, staring at Taylor over the rim of his cup.

Taylor’s eyes widened even further if it was possible and Christian watched him disdainfully, sure that that he was thinking of a way to get out of paying the bill. “Two months might be a little difficult,” Taylor barely managed to choke out.

“Two months is the stipulation. If you can’t pay for it within that timeframe, we’ll go through your insurance company,” he said, his attitude nonchalant as he waited for Taylor’s response.

Taylor lifted his hand and rubbed his bottom lip with it nervously. Christian noticing the action let his eyes drop to his mouth and was surprised to see how feminine it was. Soft, pink, lush… Christian stopped when he realized where his thoughts were heading and with a shake of his head, he brushed the thoughts aside.

It wasn’t a big deal to notice another guy’s mouth – he was secure enough in himself not let the observation bother him – besides he had to expect that every now and then the painter in him would make an appearance; he was bound to notice interesting features regardless who they belonged to.

“There’s got to be some other way,” he heard Taylor mutter and he took the opening. “There is another possibility,” he offered offhandedly and Taylor looked up at him curiously and hopefully.

“In the next few months,” he continued, “I’ll be setting up and running a café. I have workers there right now but I’ll still need some extra help – general labour, café set up, etc. I also just moved back to town recently and I’ll need someone to help me with my errands. So, you become my goto person ... my, uh, assistant, for the next three months and you’re off the hook on the car repairs.”

Taylor knew exactly where Christian was going with this and her eyes narrowed at his words. It was bad enough that the damage was a lot more than she’d banked on but now it seemed that the only way to get out of it was to become this guy’s personal servant.

Disgusted by the very idea of it, she opened her mouth to tell him where he could take his offer but then, some part of her brain stopped her. Yes, the option was insulting, possibly even demeaning, but pride wasn’t going to pay for the car damages. This was a way out, a crappy way out, but there was that saying ... beggars can’t be choosers.

Taylor took a deep breath, swallowed her pride and met his eyes. “Three months and then I’m no longer beholden to you?” she asked, not noticing the way Christian was watching her sharply.

“As long as you do what I ask, after three months we’ll be completely square,” he said with a nod.

Her heart began to beat frantically at the statement. What exactly did “do what I ask” entail? If he thought he could take advantage of her because of the situation, he had another thing coming. “I can’t just agree to do everything you say. There’ll have to be conditions – a contract of some sort. I need to have some idea of what you’ll expect.”

Christian shrugged. “We’ll write a contract then. If you have a paper and pen, we can do it right now.”

Taylor reached for her backpack and took out her notebook. As long as she was allowed to put in her own stipulations she wouldn’t have to do anything she was uncomfortable with.

They were almost done writing the contract when Christian’s phone started to vibrate. He looked down at the number and sighed before pushing the contract towards her. “Look it over,” he mumbled before he flipped open his phone.

She glanced down at the contract and started to read everything they’d hashed out in the last half an hour, unintentionally keeping an ear on the conversation happening across from her.

“Hello,” she heard Christian say.

There was a long pause before his next response, “Mom, I already told you, I have no intention of taking her out.”

Hearing the irritation in his voice, she glanced up to look at him. He was playing with the handle of his coffee cup and his brow was furrowed as if he was frustrated by the conversation he was having and she briefly wondered who the “her” was he wasn’t interested in taking out.

He glanced up and their eyes met briefly before she quickly looked back down at the paper, embarrassed at being caught staring at him again.

“Taylor.” She darted her eyes up at him awkwardly when he called her name.

“Yes?” she responded.

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked, putting his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone.

She cautiously shook her head in response, wondering why he wanted to know.

“Okay, mom,” he said, his attention back to the phone. “I’ll take her out but only If you promise to lay off on the setting me up stuff for a while. I’ll meet her at the Emerald at eight.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to look at her. “Done looking it over?” he asked, gesturing towards the contract.

“Pretty much,” she said with a nod. She wasn’t really done but having just gone over it with him she had a good idea what she was in for – complete servitude.

“Good,” he said taking the sheet and signing it with a hard, masculine scrawl. He turned it back over to her along with the pen. “Go ahead and sign it,” he motioned.

She picked up the pen and gripped it tightly, knowing that she was about to give up three months of herself. That time would belong to him now and while they’d made up the contract so that he wouldn’t take complete advantage of her, she knew that pretty much whatever he asked, she’d have to do.

After she’d signed the contract, Christian took the paper and put it away. “I’ll get you a copy of this for your own records. Now that that’s over with,” there was a brief pause before he continued, “I’ll need you to start tonight.”

Taylor sighed. She supposed one final day of freedom was too much to ask. “What is it?”

“I need to get rid of a girl and I need you to help me do it.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed, remembering too late that she didn’t know anything about this guy at all. What if he was involved in some really shady business and he wanted her to be his accomplice?

“What do you want me to do?” she asked suspiciously.

“I need you to be my lover,” he said matter of factly.

Taylor’s mouth dropped open in shock. She couldn’t believe his nerve. While it might seem like she was a pushover because of the situation, she most definitely wasn’t one and if he even tried to touch her, she’d make sure that he’d never be able to have sex again. “Absolutely not,” she said angrily.

“First day of work and you’re already complaining? Look, there’s no stipulation against this in the contract so you’re going to do it or we’re going to have a problem,” he said with an obnoxious arrogance that made her want to punch him in the face.

“I’m not going to have sex with you! And I’ll have you arrested for sexual harassment if you even try anything, bud,” she declared indignantly.

She watched his eyes widen and his mouth go slack at her words and then, after a few seconds of dead silence had passed, he threw back his head and guffawed.

“What the hell is so funny?” she demanded, annoyed that he was treating it all as a joke.

He leaned in over the table, still chuckling and looked straight into her eyes. “Dude. I don’t want your penis. I’m not gay. I only need you to pretend to be my lover for tonight. That’s it.”

Taylor looked at him with a mixture of relief and confusion. While she was relieved that he wasn’t trying to bed her, nothing else he'd said made any sense. Why would he think that she thought he was gay? And was the penis remark some kind of thinly veiled jab? She knew she wasn’t dressed in the most womanly manner but did he really have to go there?

“When did I say you were gay?” she asked, choosing to tackle the most confusing part of his speech first.

He raised a brow at her. “Why would I want to have sex with another guy unless I was gay or bisexual?” he asked, looking at her as if she was particularly slow.

And she was beginning to feel pretty slow actually. Either she was missing something or he was because the conversation wasn’t making any sense at all. Maybe if she got back to the original statement before the conversation had gotten completely derailed they could make some kind of headway.

“Go back to the thing about you wanting me to be your lover and explain,” she said.

Christian leaned back into his chair and shrugged. “Like I was saying earlier, there’s a girl, Emily, who I want to get rid of. Her family and my family run in the same circles and we’ve known each other for years. My family wants me to get married and Emily is the frontrunner. The problem is, I’m not interested in marriage and even if I was, she would be the last woman I’d choose. Unfortunately,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m at the head of her list and while I’ve been trying to get her off my back for years now, I’m not making much progress. She just doesn’t believe I’m unavailable to her. At this point, I’ll try anything to get her off my back and I’m thinking that pretending to come out of the closet might just be the thing.”

“But, if you’re going to pretend to be gay, why do you need me?” she asked still confused.

“Clearly, if I bring a guy with me to meet her and give a convincing enough performance that I only like men, that should be enough to turn her off.”

Bring a guy? What did he mean by—Wait.

He didn’t actually think she was a… Taylor’s eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on her. He’d met her twice and spoken to her for quite a bit, so how could it be that he thought she was a man? Could one haircut really cause this much confusion? She had to make sure she was clear.

“So, you,” she paused with emphasis. “Want me,” she pointed to herself, “to pretend to be your gay lover. Is that right?”

Christian looked at her as if he was talking to a four year old. “That’s right. We go in, we pretend to be together, she hopefully falls for it and we’re done.” Suddenly he looked at her, his eyes surveying her from head to toe. “Do you have any nice clothes?” he asked, completely changing the subject.

Of course, she had some nice dresses and a few pretty skirts but menswear was a completely different story. Not that it made sense even worrying about it. She wasn’t a man and he needed to know that he’d made a mistake—

Or did he?

Everything was set. He’d gone along with it all thinking she was a man. If she told him the truth now, would he still want to go along with it or would he want to go back to the original stipulation of making her pay for the damages? As much as she didn’t like being his underling, it was cheaper than having to shell out money that she didn’t actually have. It seemed foolish to mess with everything now.

As insulting and mortifying as it was that he thought she was a he, there was no reason not to just go along with it. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. After the contract was up, they’d probably never see each other again. Wouldn’t it be better to just go with the flow and let it be? Besides, although he obviously wasn’t interested in her, it was probably still safer all around if he thought that she was a man.

“Nice clothes? Not really,” she said finally, her decision made.

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “We’ll have to go shopping.”

He stood up and grabbed his coat, slipping his arms into the sleeves. “You are going to do this right?” he asked, his eyes watching her steadily.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to do it.”

And she hoped she was doing the right thing.
Four by Village

4

 

“Now, do it exactly like we planned,” Christian told Taylor as he glanced at his watch. “It’s almost eight now. I’ll be meeting her soon. Don’t forget to make your appearance at nine.”

Taylor watched him leave and wondered what she was going to do for the next hour. Pulling at the navy turtleneck she was wearing, she looked down and made a face. If the turtleneck wasn’t bad enough, she was also wearing a black corduroy blazer over it and khaki coloured chinos. She was a walking, talking J. Crew catalogue – the butch edition. The fact that Christian had purchased the whole outfit for her, made matters even worse. Would this also be added to the tab?

Shopping had been nearly disastrous. It hadn’t crossed her mind that she’d have to try on the clothes until she’d walked into the clothing store with Christian. Worse, she hadn’t a clue what her size was supposed to be in menswear. So when she’d been asked about it, she’d rattled off some number close to her brother’s clothing size and hoped it wasn’t totally off.

Surprisingly it all fit … maybe a little too well. Looking at herself in the mirror, she'd realized that her breasts were easily definable through the shirt. So before she allowed herself to step out of the dressing room, she asked for a bigger sized top and jacket to wear that had covered any possible curves that might have shown.

She must have passed muster because when Christian saw her, he just nodded, told her that she was going to wear it all to dinner that night and then went off to pay for the clothing before should could get a word in.

She’d gotten through the shopping expedition without any issues but if she was going to keep up with the façade, she’d have to hide her figure a lot better. Granted there wasn’t much to hide of her small chest and slim frame but it was still necessary. She’d have to continue wearing the baggy sweatshirts and clothes but also, just in case, she’d have to start wearing some kind of sports bra – undershirt combination that would hopefully eliminate any unnecessary curve action.

She took a sip of her water and leaned against the bar keeping an eye on the patrons in the restaurant. She saw Christian greet a tall, beautiful blonde and lead her to a table near the windows. Settling into one of the tall barstools, she prepared herself to wait. It wouldn’t be long now 'til she had to make a complete ass of herself.

 

Christian glanced down at his watch. It had been an hour since he’d met up with Emily, which meant that Taylor would be appearing soon.

“If only I’d known you were in Paris in the fall.” He glanced up at Emily’s voice. “I was in Milan at the time. I could easily have zipped over if I’d known you were there,” she said with a pout.

“Yes,” he replied trying to hide his boredom. “What a shame.”

Emily probably wouldn’t have recognized him had they met in Paris. Except for one night of luxury on his first day there, he’d spent most of his time in the city living simply, painting people and landscapes during the day and listening to music in musty cafés at night. He’d slept in paint stained studios, owned by friends he’d met along the way, miles away from the elegant suites that Emily was used to.

He took a bite of his lamb and watched her nibble delicately on a lettuce leaf. Ordering a garden salad for dinner was questionable enough but worse she refused to eat it properly. Food was one of the simplest pleasures of life and a woman who couldn’t enjoy eating, well, he wondered what other things she wasn’t able to take pleasure in.

He looked at his watch again. 9:03pm. Where was Tay—

“Christian?”

His head shot up as the object of his thoughts stood directly in front of him, looking extremely displeased at the situation. He hid a smile at the expression on Taylor’s face and joined him in the act.

“Taye?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded guilty. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Taylor asked with outrage before glancing over at Emily. “Who is this?”

Christian looked at Emily who seemed puzzled but not upset. Yet. “Uh … she’s just … she’s just a family friend,” he stuttered.

Taylor gave Emily a long once over before turning back towards him. “You were supposed to meet me at eight. We had plans or did you forget again?”

“Oh shit,” Christian swore, getting up from his seat.

“So hold up, you forgot our date and then, to add insult to injury, you brought a woman - a woman Christian – to our restaurant? If I hadn’t come here for a late meal…” Taylor stopped speaking and with a shake of his head, began to turn away.

Christian grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking away. “Wait Taye. She means nothing to me,” he said waving a disparaging arm towards Emily. “Let’s go home and talk about this.”

Taylor pulled his arm away and turned back around to face him. “Go to hell – I know exactly what you’re like. But if you had to go back to women, couldn’t you have picked someone better?” he sneered, jabbing a finger in Emily’s direction.

Christian’s eyes flew to Emily. She looked ready to have an apoplexy. Throwing down her napkin, she stood up from her seat and marched over to Taylor. “How – how dare you?” she sputtered. “And you,” she whipped her gaze around to him. “What is the meaning of this, Christian?”

The eyes in her now red face, shifted back and forth between him and Taylor and for a moment, Christian felt a twinge of guilt. Emily wasn’t a terrible person but he had a low tolerance for her type: spoiled, high maintenance princesses who refused to take no for an answer. He was sure that once she moved on from him and was somebody else’s problem, they’d get along just fine…preferably at a distance.

“Taye, give me a minute,” he said to Taylor, making sure to add an imploring tone in his voice and Taylor, after sending him a quick searching look, nodded and walked away.

He turned back to Emily, moving closer to her as he spoke. “Emily, I’m sorry about this. I didn’t think anyone would find out like this.” He looked into her eyes and reached for her hand, grasping it tenderly. “Now that you know, I hope that you’ll be able to keep it a secret between us. My family is aware of my, uh, predilection but no one else knows about it.”

Emily shook his hand away. “No—No, I don’t believe it. I know your history with women, Christian. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” she said disbelievingly.

He nodded gravely. “I used to date women back when I was still trying to fight my natural urges. But I’m done with that now. Life’s too short to keep pretending to be something I’m not.”

“But…but what about your mother. If she really knows about you, why would she set us up on this date?” she asked desperately.

“My mother thinks it’s a phase; she’s finding it hard to deal with. I promised her that I’d come here and meet you but this is the last time I’ll let her set me up with anyone. I’m committed to someone now,” he said glancing briefly at Taylor before looking back at her. 

Emily ignored the look and crossed her arms. “Okay, fine. Prove it.”

Christian didn’t have to ask what she meant. He knew she wouldn’t believe him unless he gave her what she would see as damning evidence.  “OK,” he agreed.

He sauntered over to Taylor and said in a soft voice so Emily couldn’t hear, “Just go along with this please. Pretend I’m begging you for forgiveness right now.” He grabbed Taylor’s arms. “Now, look like you’re starting to forgive me.” Taylor’s face softened. “Yes, just like that. Okay, now don’t freak out but I need to do something that you’re probably not going to like but I need to do this to get rid of her.”

Taylor looked confused now but Christian didn’t give him a chance to ask any questions or brace himself, instead he swooped in and kissed him directly on the lips. He felt Taylor stiffen beneath his hands and he strengthened his grip as warning.

The kiss didn’t last long. It was barely longer than a peck but he still managed to notice that Taylor’s lips were as soft as they looked. He stepped back and glanced over at Emily who was staring at them mouth agape.

She grabbed her purse from the table, looking scandalized by what she’d just seen and marched over to them. “You know,” she said, with narrowed eyes. “I should have known about you. The signs were all there.”

Christian looked at her inquiringly wondering if he really wanted to know where she was going with this.

She shrugged. “I always wondered why you never tried to hit on me when you had every opportunity to do so and I was almost starting to believe it was me,” she said incredulously. “But now I know it wasn’t me all this time, it was you!”

Christian stifled a laugh and nodded contritely. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to suggest otherwise.

“I’m off,” she continued. “Don’t bother sending me home. You look like you have your hands full.” And after sending a glowering look Taylor’s way, she flounced towards the exit and disappeared from his sight.

A smile came over his face as he watched her leave. Heading back to his seat, he suddenly became aware of the curious stares of the occupants around him. Realizing he’d just put on a show for the whole restaurant, he picked up his wine glass and saluted them with a grin. Yes, he’d made a spectacle of himself but if it meant no more Emily and no more future set-ups from his mother, it had been well worth it.

He looked over at Taylor who was still standing at a distance and motioned for him to come closer. “Take a seat and have some food or something,” he said, encouraging Taylor to join in the celebration.

Taylor walked up to the table, feeling somewhat shocked by the turn of events. Christian had kissed her. Sure, it wasn’t much of a kiss, she’d barely had time to process it before he moved away, but still – he must have really wanted to get rid of the girl if he was willing to kiss another “man” to do it.

It was all a bit much and she was actually pretty mortified by the whole scene. Christian wasn’t suffering from any such emotions; he was smiling, obviously feeling quite good about himself but she was more than ready to call it a night.

“Actually, if that’s all, I really should get going. I have an early day tomorrow,” she said.

Christian looked at her in surprise before nodding.  “Of course, go,” he said, the smile disappearing from his face.

“And, umm, about the clothes…” she said, shuffling awkwardly beside the table. “I’ll wash them and bring them back to you the next time we meet.” It seemed pointless for her to keep them, although now that she thought about it, she wondered if Joshua would be able to fit in any of the pieces.

“Don’t bother,” he said a disinterested look coming over his face. “They're yours. Consider anything I bought for you today gratuitous.”

“I couldn’t,” she said uncomfortably as Christian caught the eye of the waiter and signaled for the bill.

He looked up at her and shrugged. “If you don’t want to keep them, throw them away but don’t bring them back to me. I don’t want them.”

Taylor realizing that it was pointless to continue the argument relented. As long as he wasn’t going to charge her for it later, there was no harm in keeping the clothes.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll get going then.” 

Christian tilted his head forward and gave her a short nod before he turned to the waiter to handle his bill. Taylor briefly wondered at his sudden cold attitude but quickly dismissed the thought. If he was suddenly in a bad mood, it wasn’t her problem to worry about.

After sneaking one last glance in his direction, she said goodbye and marched towards the door, hoping that she’d have a few days of reprieve before she had to see him again.

Five by Village

5

 

A noisy construction site greeted Taylor as she trudged up the walkway of a worn looking building. It had been two days since she’d last seen Christian and it had been a welcome respite. With school, work and helping out with her brother, she hadn’t had the time to be his lackey.

She’d sent him her schedule the night before letting him know what days and times she was available that week, so it had been no surprise when he’d called her that morning telling her to meet him at this address.

Sidestepping a burly worker carrying a large wooden board, she walked over the threshold and paused as she tried to figure out where to go next.  Briefly noting the messy surroundings and the people working around her, she wondered how exactly she was supposed to help.

When Christian had said that he was opening a café, Taylor hadn’t quite imagined anything of this scale. While the place was faded and shabby, it had the bones and the size to be something really great. 

“Good, you’re here.” She turned around to see Christian coming down the stairs, a folder tucked underneath his arm.

“Hey,” she said, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. She couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around him.  Some of it had to do with his personality, she just never knew what to expect from him. Some to do with his looks, she’d never been comfortable around very good-looking men. But mostly, it was the anxiety she felt partaking in this masquerade. It was like having an anvil swaying over your head and not knowing when it would fall and crush you.

“You’re free for the rest of morning, right?” he said, striding over to her.

She nodded. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“I have a friend coming into town and I promised him that I’d pick him up but I can’t get away right now, so you’ll have to do it.” He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He looked through one of the compartments, grabbed a few bills and handed them to her. “Take a cab to the airport and once he arrives do me a favour and bring him here.”

She took the money and brushed away the slight feeling of irritation at the demand. If she had to do this for the next three months, she’d have to get used to being ordered around.

“How will he find me? And vice versa?” she asked.

He removed the folder from his arm and after looking through it, handed her a piece of paper. Written on it in thick black letters was the name Carson Lee. “Hold that up at arrivals. If he misses you, he’ll call me and I’ll tell him where to meet you.”

The sound of a honk came from outside and Christian stretched out his neck to take a look. Noting the car stationed in the front, he turned back to Taylor. “That’s the cab. The plane should be arriving at 11:30 so you should leave now. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Taylor said, making her way to the front door. “Oh,” she stopped at the door. “What does he look like? Should I be looking out for something specific?”

 A grin came over Christian’s face. “Tall, dark haired and accompanied by a beautiful brunette.”

 

“Are you here for me?”

Taylor jerked up from her position slumped against the arrival gates and looked up into deep brown eyes. Tall, black hair … Taylor looked around … but no beautiful brun-

“Thanks for waiting Carson.”  A petite girl with long, dark hair came stumbling over to the man, reproof clear in her voice.

Taylor straightened up even more. Her passenger – passengers? – had arrived.

Carson Lee was a handsome man somewhere in his late twenties. While he wasn’t as disturbingly good looking as Christian, his sharp, masculine features were appealing in their own right.

As for his female guest – while Taylor wouldn’t quite call her stunning, she did have that pretty, fresh look that men seemed to love.

Carson ignored the girl and gave Taylor a once-over. “I’m Carson Lee. And you are?”

Taylor cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck nervously as she felt a sudden torrent of anxiety. “I’m Taylor Mooreland. Christian had a few things to do so he asked me to come get you.”

The girl peeked around Carson’s back and stared at Taylor unabashedly. “Cute,” she murmured, either to herself or to Carson, before sticking her hand out to Taylor. “I’m Alana Lee. Carson’s sister. Nice to meet you, Taylor.”

Taylor reached for her hand tentatively and shook it lightly. “Hi,” she said awkwardly. So they were siblings. Now that she looked at them, she could see the resemblance in the tilt of their eyes and the sharp slash of their cheeks.

She let go of Alana’s hand and took a step back. “So, uh, we should probably get going. Let me help you with your bags.” She grabbed one of Alana’s suitcases, pulled it up beside her and before either could ask any more questions, she marched towards the exit. 

“So, Taylor was it?” Carson asked stepping up beside her. “How do you know Christian?”

Taylor had hoped to avoid the question. How could she explain the odd relationship between her and Christian without bringing up the ridiculous and embarrassing situation she was in? They weren’t friends. They weren’t employee and employer. The only way to describe their relationship was as creditor and debtor and that wasn’t something she wished to say aloud. 

The only thing she could do was to fudge the truth. “Uh, I’m helping him out with the café that he’s opening and uh, some other stuff…Oh great, here’s a cab.” She rushed over as the cab driver hopped out of his vehicle and reached for the suitcase she was carrying.

She glanced over at Carson and noticed apprehensively that he was looking at her even more curiously than he had before.  Ignoring him, she watched the bags get stored into the trunk before she hopped into the front seat. It was her hope that if she sat beside the driver, Carson would keep the questions to a minimum. 

“325 Alliot Blvd,” she mumbled to the driver when everyone had gotten into the car.

She turned around to face the siblings letting them know where they were heading. “We’re going to the café now. Christian asked me to bring you guys there before he sends you home.” Without waiting for their reply, she turned around to face the front and got ready to ignore them both for the rest of the journey.

Unfortunately, for Taylor, Carson had other ideas. “So, what do you do, Taylor? Besides, helping Christian out with … stuff.”

She knew he was making fun of her but she pretended not to notice. “I go to school and I work,” she said, keeping the details to a minimum. 

“Is there a reason that you’re being so close-lipped?” he asked curiously.

“Is there a reason why you’re so curious?” she shot back, turning around to face him.

He grinned and shrugged. “I can’t help myself. I’m a curious person.”

Taylor noticed Alana eyeing them and smiling at the back and forth. Something about the way the siblings were smiling at her made the anxiety start to dissipate from her body. They had this relaxed air about them that would make it impossible for anyone to feel uncomfortable around them.

“Sorry. I’m just not that interesting of a person. School and work is the extent of my social life,” she said bluntly.

Carson raised a brow. “Uninteresting? Oh, I doubt that,” he said smiling at her. 

She gave him a slight smile before turning back around. Carson seemed like an okay guy. She wondered how he and Christian knew each other. And Alana -- Christian had called her beautiful. Did he have feelings for the girl?

Not that it was any of her business either way. Background history was for friends – not for, whatever it was she and Christian were. The less they knew about each other the best for all around.

 

“Carson.” Christian gripped Carson’s hand before giving him a short hug.

“You couldn’t come and get us at the airport, you lazy punk?” Carson asked when he was released from the hug.

“Look around you.” Christian waved at the construction site. “I’ve been busy trying to get this place up and running before the end of the month.” He gave Carson an abbreviated version of the reason he was involved in the project and shrugged. “This will be my life for the next three months, man.”

“Sounds fun. Hey, I have nothing on for the next couple of months. I could give you a hand if you want it,” Carson said, assessing the progress of the renovations.

Christian eyed him cynically. “You must expect to be really bored while you’re here to offer your services.”

Carson grinned. “Maybe I just want to help a friend out. Besides,” Christian saw him look out the window where Taylor was helping Alana put her bags into Christian’s car, “this place looks more fun than hanging out at my place for the next couple of months. Who’s the kid?” he asked.

“Who Taylor? He’s just a friend,” Christian said nonchalantly not elaborating on the situation. He didn’t feel like explaining it. Not even to his closest friend.

“He? Wait a minute, Taylor’s a guy?” Carson asked doubtfully.

Christian snorted. “Last time I checked.”

“Huh.” Carson shook his head. “I could have sworn he was a chick. Not that he’s particularly womanly in his actions but the face …” Carson’s voice drifted off as Taylor and Alana walked through the door.

Christian wondered at his friend. Sure Taylor was somewhat delicate facially and kind of short for a guy but nothing about him, not his voice or his behaviour, was particularly womanly. Taylor just needed to grow up – get laid, add a few life years on him – and he’d get rid of all the babyish things about him that made him look like a boy instead of a man.

“Christian!” He jerked out of his thoughts when Alana came bounding over to him, falling into his arms.

“Baby doll,” he mumbled into her hair. She felt so small. Breakable. He wondered if he’d ever stop feeling protective over her.

“Oh God,” Carson said with a roll of his eyes. “I think now’s the perfect time to make a few calls.” He walked away, phone already pressed to his ear.

Christian chuckled and looked back down at Alana. He’d known the Lees well over ten years now. He and Carson had been friends since high school and he was more like a brother to Christian than a friend. Alana was the little sister he’d never had. She’d always been under step when they were growing up and while Carson had found it annoying, Christian had found it pretty endearing – probably due to his being an only child.

“How was the flight?” he asked her.

She looked up at him. “Great. It was a very easy flight. I almost wanted to turn back, though, when I saw how much snow was on the ground. And I probably would have if dad hadn’t gotten me that internship at Belle Magazine. And you of course. I wouldn’t have left without seeing you,” she said with a sly grin.

Christian snorted. “Save it,” he said, tousling her hair and letting her go. “Listen, when this is all done, I want to put some kind of mural on the far end wall and I want you to do it.” Alana was a gifted artist and he was sure that she’d do something beautiful.

“I would love to!” she said excitedly. “I have just the perfect idea.”

As she drifted over to the wall, Taylor came up beside him. “Is there anything else for today,” he asked, looking more than ready to be on his way. “I’m not trying to get out of working or anything. I just have class at one and it’s already 12:30.”

Christian, realizing that he had kept Taylor longer than he’d intended, told Taylor to go. “But I’ll see you tomorrow at 4pm,” he reminded.

Taylor agreed, zipping up his coat. He sent Alana and Carson a quick wave and was heading towards the door when George walked through it.

George stopped in his tracks when he saw Taylor and recognition gleamed in his eyes. “Taylor, is that you?” he said in his deep bark of a voice.

Christian noticed that Taylor tensed up at the sight of George and when Taylor looked back at him, his eyes shifting guiltily on his face, he couldn’t help but feel his old suspicions about the boy resurface. What exactly was going on here?

“George, hello,” Taylor responded facing George again. “Good to see you. How long has it been?” he said, grabbing George’s arm and dragging the man towards the front doors.

Christian was about to follow them when Alana called him over. He sent one last look in their direction before going over to her. He was sure Taylor was up to something but what?

 

Taylor dragged George well across the garden before he had a chance to protest.

“Taylor, what’s going on?” he asked curiously, stopping in his tracks.

She stopped and faced him. What were the odds that her old employer would have found her here?

In high school, she’d been a server at a local diner where George had been the owner. He’d been a great boss and she’d enjoyed her time working there until he’d decided to sell the place. The new ownership hadn’t been anywhere as good a boss as George had been and it hadn’t taken Taylor long to move on to greener pastures.

She didn’t know what to tell him now. She was in such a strange position and if he knew the full story, knowing George, he’d probably march right into the café and punch Christian in the nose. As humorous as that might have been to watch, a pissed off Christian wasn’t of any benefit to her. So, she’d have to tell him some form of the truth without cluing him into the whole situation.

But what was George doing there in the first place? “What are you doing here?” she asked curiously.

“I’m managing the place, for a little while at least. What about you? What was that all about back there?” He folded his arms in front of him and gave her a stern look.

“Actually, I’m working for Christian,” she said fiddling with her ear. “We kind of met accidentally and he needed someone to do some odd jobs, so he hired me. The thing is George, he and I kind of got off to an odd start and he, and you’re going to think this is crazy, but he kind of thinks that I’m a guy.”

She watched his eyes go round in astonishment. “You’re kidding,” he said disbelievingly.

“I wish I was. The truth is, I haven’t told him otherwise because he thinks he’s hired a guy and if he knows I’m a girl he might call the whole thing off. And George, I really need the money.”

George looked concerned. “Is everything all right? Can I help? I know what kind of person you are Taylor, so I don’t mind lending you some money until you can pay me back.”

She shook her head even though she was touched by the offer. Sure, she’d worked for George for over a year but they’d had an amicable employer/employee relationship, nothing more. While it was very kind of him to offer her the money, she didn’t want to be beholden to him or anyone else for that matter. “I really appreciate that George but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t feel right. If you really want to do me a favour, please don’t tell Christian that I’m not who he thinks I am.”

George shook his head and sighed. “I’ll do what you ask Taylor but believe me when I say that lying about something this big will only lead to trouble.”

Taylor’s stomach dropped at the ominous words but she refused to let them get her down. All she had to do was make it through the next three months and this living a lie thing would be behind her.

Six by Village
Author's Notes:
I've actually had this done for awhile now, so I completely apologize for not putting it up earlier.

6

 

“I’d like to make a toast,” Carson said, getting up from his seat on the floor. “To all our new staffers who, with their help, will make the Brew House the greatest café known this side of the universe. To our fearless leaders, Christian and George, for making this whole thing possible and of course, to me,” he paused dramatically, “for being so damn handsome. Cheers!”

Christian, who was propped up against the coffee bar counter, shook his head and sent his eyes heavenward in a mock plea to the Gods. Then, belying his previous actions, grinned, raised his glass in Carson’s direction and took a swig of his beer.

Three weeks, he thought looking around the room. After all the long nights, the stressful days and the headaches, the dusty old wreck that he’d inherited looked better than he’d imagined.

The ancient hardwood was polished but still maintained it’s character; the walls were painted a warm hue and wooden tables and comfortable chairs were scattered around the room. Paintings graced every wall and a large fireplace was the centerpiece of a large brick wall that gave the room a rustic urbanity that anyone would find comforting. A lawyer and a sculptor could rub shoulders in this room and feel like they both belonged.

He wanted the café to be somewhere where people of all lifestyles could come together and eat, drink and enjoy themselves – just like the countless cafés and coffeehouses he’d been to in his travels. It wouldn’t have the clinical-ness or fake hominess of the chain coffee shops; it’d be a place where a person could grab a coffee after a long day’s work or read a book on a lazy Sunday morning.

He still wasn’t thrilled about having to run the place; he hated that he was being blackmailed and tested by his father but if he had any say in the matter this place would be a success. And he would prove that he could do anything he set his mind to. His father assuredly thought he would fail but Christian was determined to show him that he was completely wrong about him.

He glanced back over at the people congregated around the room. Carson was now part of the management team and together with Christian and George, they’d hired four new employees. Jeffrey Parker a university student,  a chirpy nineteen-year-old named Stacey Leighton, Harry Scott, a jack of all trades, more commonly known as Torque and a stunningly beautiful twenty-something year old named Isabel Vasquez who had just recently returned to the country after an extended European tour.

He, Taylor and the other staff members had put together the finishing touches of the upcoming grand opening and were now having a little impromptu celebration. Music played softly in the background.  Beer, soda and half-empty pizza boxes were spread on the ground, as were most of the staffers who’d decided to forgo the chairs and tables to eat on the spotless floor.

He looked over at George whose face was getting redder and redder as he imbibed more and more German beer. George had been a wealth of information and Christian was secretly glad to have him on board. The only thing that stopped him from being fully trustful of the man was the knowledge that he was probably spying on him for his father.

Then there was the Taylor issue. His eyes fell on Taylor, who was sitting on the floor, leaning on a chair back and laughing at something Carson was saying. Something was up between Taylor and George. George had mentioned that they’d worked together in the past but that hadn’t explained Taylor’s weird behaviour when they’d encountered each other again.

He purposefully brushed the distrust aside. In the past few weeks, he’d been able to see what kind of man Taylor was. And he was a good guy. He didn’t think any job was too small, he never half-assed it and he never complained. It was surprising how hard he was actually working, considering the lack of pay. If Christian were being honest, he’d have to admit that he liked the guy and was feeling guilty about the contract.

When he’d come up with the whole thing, he’d thought that Taylor deserved the punishment but after getting to know the kid, Christian felt otherwise. So after going back and forth with it for days he finally decided to let Taylor off the hook. No assisting, no contract, not even repair payments, Christian was going to let Taylor have his life back – it was the only way his conscience would be completely clear.

Christian’s eyes were still on Taylor when the object of his scrutiny looked up and caught his stare. With a half-surprised look on his face, Taylor tilted his head and raised a curious brow in his direction.

Christian shrugged at him and looked away wondering about the weird habit he’d developed of watching Taylor. He’d be talking to a contractor about the renovations and then Taylor would do something in the corner of the room that would draw his eye to the slim frame. Or after he’d send Taylor to do something, he would find himself watching him until he turned a corner or marched out of the room. It was strange behaviour, bizarre, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

And that was another reason he was ready for Taylor to be out of his life for good. He was already finding himself feeling a little attached to the guy and he didn’t care for it one bit.

Suddenly, he felt a presence near him and he looked around to see that Isabel had joined him by the coffee bar. “The place looks amazing,” she said, her eyes boring into his.

He gave her an easy smile. “Thanks to your hard work. All of you.” He nodded to the other staff members around the room.

“It’s our pleasure. Really,” she said breathily. She shifted closer to him. “So, are you having fun?”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “I am now.”

As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he regretted them. He hadn’t meant to flirt with her, or any employee for that matter – it was completely inappropriate – but when a beautiful woman flirted with him, he couldn’t help but play along even though it was completely meaningless to him. This back and forth was as natural to him as breathing.

“I am having fun too. I’m so glad we’ll be working closely together,” Isabel replied, her eyes shining.

Crap. Christian knew that look.

It meant trouble.

Taylor watched Stacey stroll up her walkway and waved goodbye when the girl slipped into her house. Facing forward, she shifted awkwardly in the car seat as Christian pulled out of Stacey’s driveway and into the road.


This was the first time that he'd given her a lift home. She always used public transportation to go to the café and did the same when heading home. He’d made a general call at the end of the party, asking who needed a ride home. It just so happened that the only two people that hadn’t had a ride was Stacey and herself.

Isabel, who had driven her car that day, had not been pleased by this turn of events and had sent Stacey quite the death glare. Thankfully, Taylor had come out of it entirely unscathed. Other than George, no one knew she was a girl, so Isabel had no reason to try to intimidate her.

Taylor found the whole thing amusing and sad all at the same time. Isabel’s crush on Christian wasn’t heading anywhere if Christian’s complete avoidance of the girl was any indication. Not that his behaviour had deterred her; she’d spent half of the night following him around and the other half watching him with moon calf eyes across the room.

Sure, Christian was an attractive guy. Incredible looking actually, Taylor would be blind to claim otherwise, but he was just a guy. A demanding, cocky and … well, kind of an okay guy.

In parts, he was your typical rich boy: audacious, arrogant, too good looking for his own good but there was more to him than that. She knew he visited his grandmother often, spending hours with her while she recuperated. He was good with the workers too. He bought them meals when the day had gone overlong and she often saw him laughing and cracking jokes with them as if they were all great friends.

As for their relationship – well, she didn’t really know what their relationship was. While they were a step above acquaintances, she knew enough about his life for it to be otherwise, there was a distance between them that didn’t allow the same easiness that he had with the other workers.

It was probably due to the contract. It was hard to be completely at ease with someone when your debt to them was the basis of your association. They could never be friends with the contract between them. Not really. And, for a moment, Taylor wondered why that bothered her.

“Taylor.” She looked across at Christian when he called her name.

He looked uncomfortable and more unsure than she’d ever seen him. Christian was many things but lacking confidence wasn’t one of them.

“It’s about the contract,” he continued after clearing his throat.

“What about it?” she asked, her brows rising in inquiry.

He glanced over at her before looking back through the windshield. “I’m cancelling it,” he stated brusquely.

At the words, her heart began to thud against her chest. Had she heard right? Did he mean it?

“Why?” was the question that fell out of her mouth.

“Up this road, right?” he asked ignoring the question and pointing to the street where she lived.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “just up ahead.”

They sat in silence until he glided to a stop in front of her complex. He turned off the ignition and turned around to face her, looking calm and confident again. If he was still feeling uneasy, he was hiding it very well.

“Look, Taylor, I was out of line. You’re a good guy and now that I know that, I don’t feel right putting you up to this. So let’s,” he ran his hand through this hair, “let’s just call it even. I’ve covered the cost of the damage anyway so don’t bother about the estimate. We can end our association here.” He turned to face the front and restarted his car. “Thank you for your hard work and good luck with … just good luck.”

Taylor blinked at his profile as she felt her stomach drop. Too many feelings were running through her. While she was happy that she didn’t owe him the money, the responsible part of her didn’t know if she could accept it. She’d caused the accident and she was responsible for fixing it. Then there was another part of her, a small part of her, that couldn’t quite believe that he was about to swoop out of her life just as quickly as he’d swooped into it.

She glanced over at him as he continued to stare up ahead. He was waiting for her to get out of the car and she unbuckled her seatbelt intending to do so.

So this was it? This was the end of their acquaintance? It was weird. They weren’t close, they weren’t friends, they weren’t much of anything really and yet her stomach sank as if she was about to lose something of great importance. She shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind. She was being foolish. She should be happy, relieved - grateful that this experience was over.

She turned to say goodbye to him when she caught a movement outside from the corner of her eye. “What the—” she blurted out, pushed opened the door and ran over to the scene that was occurring right in front of her house.

 

Christian felt Taylor jump out of his seat before he heard the car door slam. He looked over and saw that Taylor was already halfway across the snowy walkway to his place. His eyes followed Taylor as he headed over to the people gathered in front of his home. There was a woman clutching a young boy in front of her while a husky man waved at them in a belligerent manner.

He watched Taylor stop in front of the group and ask something and the man marched up to him and started gesticulating wildly, alternating between jabbing a finger in the woman’s direction and pointing menacingly at Taylor. Christian looked down at his hands and realized that he'd clenched them into fists.

He turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt before he could tell himself that the situation was none of his business. He was out of the car before he could tell himself to continue on his way. He walked up to the group before he could warn himself that if he didn’t turn back now, there would be no going back. But it was too late for all that.

Taylor was saying something to the boy, who on closer inspection had to be his brother and by the looks of the pretty woman beside him, she was Taylor's mother.

“Joshua, go inside,” Taylor said firmly, when he’d walked up to the group.

The boy shook his head, looking at the man hostilely.

“Get inside. Now.” There was a firm authority to Taylor’s voice that Christian had never heard before and it was enough to send Joshua on his way, but not before sending one last glare in the man’s direction.

The man didn’t notice the glare. He was too busy eying Christian warily. Taylor followed his gaze and saw him standing just a few feet from the scene. Taylor looked surprised and … embarrassed and Christian could have kicked himself when he saw the expression on Taylor’s face. 

Taylor’s father didn’t seem to be in the picture making Taylor the man of the house. He was likely very conscious of his role and probably wouldn't want someone like Christian to get involved. But what could he do? He’d already been noticed. It was too late to slink off into the darkness.

Taylor looked away from him and stepped closer to the man as if to block Christian out of the conversation. “Mr. Wrick,” he said in a conciliatory tone, “you can’t do this. We have the rent ready for this month.”

The man turned to Taylor and folded his arms over his chest. “Not my concern. I got people who want the place. Reliable people.”

“I promise you. The rent won’t be late again.”

“I don’t care. Be out by the end of the month.” He was turning away but Taylor grabbed his arm.

“Don’t do this, please. It’s the middle of winter. At least give us a month to find another place. Five days isn’t enough time.”

The man shook Taylor’s hand off him. “Too bad. You better be out by then or I’ll call the police.”

He turned away again but another hand grabbed his arm. He whirled around, eyes ablaze until he realized that the hand was attached to Christian’s long frame.

Christian gripped the man’s forearm more firmly and pulled him up closer to him. “What’s the problem here?” he asked with a calmness that belied the anger he was feeling.

“None of your business,” the man sputtered as he tried to pull himself out of Christian’s grasp and failed.

Christian knew instantly that the man wasn’t going to listen to reason. No, there were only two ways to deal with a man like him. One would lead to swollen knuckles and while it would satisfy his need to connect the man’s face to his fist, it would probably get Taylor and his family kicked out of their home that very night. The other ... well, the other was nothing at all.

“How much?” he asked, releasing the man and shoving him away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taylor’s eyes widen but he ignored the reaction.

A mercenary gleam entered the man’s eyes. “Well…” he rattled off an amount and Christian took his wallet out of his pocket.

“Don’t.” Taylor was beside him now. “I don’t want you do this.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, taking a cheque out of a compartment in his wallet and filling it out,”because I’m doing it anyway.”

He held the cheque up so the landlord could see the amount written on it. “This should be good for three months.” The man reached for the money and Christian held it out of his reach. “You write a clause in their lease about this, send it to this address,” he took out a business card and handed it over to him. “As soon as I get a copy, the cheque is yours. You’ll do that now.” The man didn’t have to be told twice, he rushed away to get the papers in order.

Taylor’s mother was eying him with a mixture of inquisitiveness and fascination. “Taylor, who’s this?”

“Mom,” he said turning to his mother, “not right now, ok? I need to talk to him. In private.” 

His mother looked like she didn’t want to leave but after giving Christian one last once over, she nodded and walked into the house.

They both watched her leave but as soon as the door closed behind her, Taylor turned angrily to Christian. “What the hell was that?”

Christian jerked his head, taken aback at Taylor’s reaction. “What was that? I thought that was me keeping you from getting your ass thrown out on the street, you ungrateful brat,” he said, suddenly angry.

“You had no right to do this,” Taylor declared. “I didn’t ask for your charity.”

So was that what this was about? Taylor’s misplaced male pride?

“It’s not charity,” he said in a more even tone. “I expect you to pay me back but at your own pace.”

“Why? What’s in this for you?”

“Nothing,” Christian sighed. “Nothing’s in it for me. I just couldn’t watch you and your family lose your home without trying to help. I’m not the complete bastard you think I am Taylor.”

Briefly Taylor’s eyes caught and held his before he blinkingly looked down at his feet. He didn’t seem angry anymore, but now he looked just a little deflated.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and then straightened up, not quite meeting Christian’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said again with more assertion.

Now it was Christian’s turn to look away. “You don’t have to thank me.” He took a step back and turned slightly away from Taylor. “Besides, I know you’ll pay me back. And if you don’t,” he said, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk, “I know where you live.” 

“I’m gonna go,” he said turning away fully and making his way towards his car.

“You’ll get it all back. With interest.” Christian heard the call from behind him.

“Goodbye Taylor,” he said just loudly enough to carry across the distance, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Seven by Village

7

 

“What are you doing here?”

While Taylor hadn’t expected an effusive welcome when she’d walked into the cafe that morning, she hadn’t expected this ... this non-reaction either.

Christian stood before her in the middle of the entryway, arms folded in front of him, expression blank, as if he was waiting to see what she would do before he expelled any kind of emotion.

“Can you let me in ... It’s freezing out here?” she asked.

He stepped back and allowed her to enter the cafe. Upbeat jazz music was playing in the background as Harry, Carson, and Isabel bustled busily around the restaurant. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched them work.

In the short time they’d known each other, she’d become just that little bit attached to the group and to the cafe. They’d worked alongside each other to make this place the beautiful coffee house it was and a little part of it, as crazy as it was, felt like hers.

George came down the stairs from the second floor and noticed her before the others did. “Taylor, you’re just in time. You can grab a uniform upstairs if you want to get ready for the grand opening,” he said grinning broadly.

Christian unfolded his arms and shook his head. “Taylor doesn’t wor—,”

“I’ll get dressed in a second!” Taylor cut Christian off before he managed to get his sentence out and he raised a brow at the interjection.

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly as she shuffled over to a corner window near the back of the room.

He followed her over. “What’s this about Taylor? I told you the contract’s off.”

“I know what you said.” She untied her wool scarf from around her neck and stuffed what she could of it in her coat pocket. “But after what you did for me the other day, I owe you. Until I can get the full amount to you, I’ll continue to go along with the contract we established earlier. And I’ll start helping out at the café officially as well. A few days a week, I’ll come and work here.”

Christian looked surprised. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

“I don’t like owing people and I’ll feel uncomfortable knowing that you’re waiting around for the money. I want to do this.”

Christian sat on the bench by the window and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not waiting around for anything. You don’t have to—”

“I do,” she said cutting him off again. “I do have to do this.” It was the very least she could do after the incident two nights ago.

She’d been shocked when he’d come to her rescue in front of her house that night. She’d thought he was long gone when he’d showed up throwing his weight and money around and she’d been pretty annoyed about it at first. Minutes after telling her that they’d never see each other again, he had the gall to shove himself into her life and impose another debt onto her.

Her embarrassment at the whole situation had fuelled the anger a bit as well.  Why was it that in most situations she found herself in with him, her pride took the biggest beating?

When the anger had dissipated, however, and she’d realized that he was sincere, gratefulness had flooded her and for one moment of insanity all she wanted to do was rest her head on his shoulder and thank him for his help. She couldn’t do the former so she’d thanked him and promised to pay him in full when she could.

It wasn’t enough though. He’d given her landlord three months worth of rent and it would take her at least that long to come up with the money. Her mother was too unreliable to leave the matter in her hands so she’d have to find a way to get the money to him herself. In the meantime, continuing with the contract seemed the best way to show her sincerity and gratefulness for what he’d done for her and her family.

“I owe you. Let me do this until I can pay you back in full,” she said.

Christian saw the obstinate tilt of Taylor’s chin and lifted his hands in surrender. “If that’s what you want, I’m not going to argue against it.” He stood up and a small smile came over his face. “Besides, my grandmother taught me never to look a gift horse in the mouth. Go ask George for a uniform.”

Christian’s eyes followed Taylor as he headed over to George. This was a strange turn of events. He’d given Taylor a free pass and yet here the kid was ready to work for Christian again just because he didn’t want to be in his debt. If Christian hadn’t realized that he’d been wrong about him before, he was sure now. Taylor was as trustworthy as they came.

He leaned against the wall and for a while, watched his staff work around the room until Taylor came back downstairs dressed in the baristas’ black and white uniform and suddenly a fresh wave of confidence hit him.

The Brew House was going to be a success. He would make sure of it.

...

Taylor hadn’t seen a customer for over an hour. It was three days later and while the opening had been a complete success – the place had been packed from open to close – since then, the coffee house hadn’t been as busy as they’d all expected.

Taylor had shown up at the cafe right after putting in a shift at her part-time job, to see the boys: Jeff, George and Carson, seemingly trying to fight complete boredom. Jeff kept wiping the exact same spot on the counter pretending to be busy, Carson wasn’t even bothering to pretend as he flipped through one of the news magazines and leisurely drank a cup of coffee by the windows, and Taylor could swear that George, who was seated at the bar, was fast asleep.

It hadn’t taken her long to get bored as well. After fiddling with the dessert case, shifting plates and jars of scones, muffins and biscotti over and over again, she finally gave up and reached for her textbooks. She wasn’t going to waste very precious time in her day fake working when she could actually get some homework done.

She didn’t plan to take a break; it seemed pointless since she’d practically been on break since she’d arrived but George, who woke up long enough to evaluate the situation, sent her off to “get some air”.

She was halfway across the front garden of the cafe when an arm slipped around her shoulders. She jerked and looked up to see Carson grinning down at her. Then, after feeling another presence beside her, looked to her right and saw Jeff stepping up beside her.

“What are you guys doing?” she asked warily. 

“We’re coming with you,” Carson said mischievously.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to take a walk around the park.”

“Right and we’ll join you,” he said with a nod.

She looked over at Jeff who, not being one of many words, just smiled and shrugged.

She looked back at Carson. “Will George be able to manage by himself?”

Carson snorted. “With all those people? I think so,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Besides, Christian will be starting soon. He can help George if any customers decide to show up. Now shall we go?”

Since Carson, whose arm was still around her, was practically forcing her to walk with him, Taylor couldn’t do anything but go. But, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that when Christian showed up, he’d be far from pleased.

...

“Where the hell is everyone?” Christian said to the room at large.

A seated George didn’t do so much as lower the paper he was reading. “I’ve been asking myself that same question all day. I think we made four dollars in the last two hours and that was from Carson.”

And instead of figuring out how to drum up some business, here was George taking a leisurely paper break? “You’re a lot of fucking help, George,” Christian muttered to himself.

He walked up behind the counter, checked one of the registers to see how the day was really going, and was annoyed to see that George hadn’t exactly been lying. “What about the people who get paid to be here?” he asked sarcastically.

The paper didn’t even twitch. “At the park, I suppose. I told Taylor to take his break and Carson went scurrying after him, dragging Jeff along with him.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed. Carson. He should have known. He grabbed his coat and marched to the front door.

“Going somewhere?” George called after him in a singsong voice.

He didn’t bother to dignify the question with a response, instead he threw open the front door and went off to find his wandering employees.

...

Half an hour later, Taylor wasn’t sure how she found herself with a slip of plastic beneath her, grinning as she flew down a snowy hill but she wasn’t sorry for it. She hadn’t been this carefree and relaxed in months. There was something about reverting to your eight-year old self that could make all your troubles disappear, even if it was just for a little while.

When they’d arrived at the park, they’d discovered that sleds and toboggans were available to rent.  Carson immediately asked for two and then after shoving one of each to her and Jeff, pushed them towards the hill.

After about a dozen runs it was probably time to head back to work but Carson wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. She looked behind her and noticed that he was coming down the hill fast and with a smile, she turned back and leaned forward to make sure he didn’t beat her down the hill.

She liked him. He was so easy to get along with. Sure he was handsome but he was so unaffected by it, so easy to talk to, that she barely noticed it at all.

Suddenly, as she got to the bottom of the hill, Carson close behind her, Christian appeared and he didn’t look thrilled by the fact that his employees weren’t at work. She slid to a stop and stood up as Christian marched over to her.

“Well, look what I’ve found,” he said sarcastically.

“Uh, Christian...” she said awkwardly, looking around him.

“So, you guys decided that because there were no customers, you were going to take a snow day?” he demanded, hands on hips.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t my idea. But uh, Christian?” she warned.

“I don’t care who’s id—,” Suddenly a ball of snow hit Christian right at the side of his face and Taylor stifled her laugh when he whipped around to see Carson grinning at him, another snowball in his hand.

She had tried to warn him but he’d been too busy telling her off to realize that Carson was sneaking up on him.

“Oh, so it’s going to be like that?” she heard him say before he picked up his own snowball, ducking when Carson threw the other, and hurled it in Carson’s direction. It got Carson in the shoulder before he picked up his sled and used it as a shield.

Taylor couldn’t help but grin as she watched them launch snow at each other and after one hit Christian right in the middle of his forehead she couldn’t stop a laugh from erupting out of her.

Christian turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes narrowed, and before Taylor could react, snowballs came flying towards her. One missed entirely but the other caught her in the side of the face, getting her ear and her cheek.She clapped her hand over the abused part of her face and rubbed it as Christian chuckled at her discomfort.                                          

Scowling at him, she  tossed down her sled and tackled him, completely surprising him off-balance. He slipped and fell backwards giving Taylor enough space to grab a pile of snow and drop it over his head.

Christian sputtered as the snow hit his face but he reacted faster than she’d expected. Before she could make a run for it, he grabbed her hand, pulled her down and proceeded to face wash her with his snowy glove.

Feeling a mixture of amusement and outrage, she tried to shake him off without much luck. Pulling off one of her gloves, she reached for some snow and tried to hit him with it. It didn’t work. He grabbed her hand, forcing her to drop it and she glared when he grinned down at her. “I don’t think so,” he said, one brow raised archly.

She looked into his eyes and noticed that they were a very clear blue today, a sparkling, bright blue that matched his mood. Her annoyance suddenly disappeared at the sight of his cheerful expression. This was the first time that she’d ever had that expression directed at her.

For some reason they never shared a joke or grinned at each other, they’d never been comfortable enough with each other for that. Yet here he was smiling, sharing this private joke with her and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

There was a moment when their eyes caught, mouths still tilted up in smiles, that she felt all was right with the world and then he shifted, realized that he was still crouching over her, and jumped up from his position on the ground. And as soon as he did, she felt the cold and missed his warmth.

Shaking those thoughts away, she lifted herself up into a sitting position and watched as Carson walked over to them. Carson. For a second, she’d completely forgotten that he was there. Speaking of which...she looked around. “Where’s Jeff?” she asked aloud.

“He told me he was heading back before we went on that last run,” Carson responded.

“Oh,” she said, embarrassed that she hadn’t noticed.

“And we’re headed back too,” Christian said sternly, although there was still laughter in his eyes.

She nodded, grabbing the sled and standing up.

“I’ll bring these back,” Carson said, taking it out of her hand and heading towards the rental house.

She turned to Christian once he walked away. “Hey, about this whole thing—,”

Christian interrupted her. “Don’t worry about it. I know what Carson’s like,” he said an ironic smile on his face. “Look, I wasn’t really mad at you guys… When I saw the coffee house empty...,” he sighed. “I’m just pissed that it’s bombing.”

The look on his face made Taylor want to comfort him. “Right now you’re competing with the giant a block away. Once people hear about the Brew House and see that it’s more than just a place to get coffee, they’ll turn up in droves. You have my personal guarantee ,” she said with a broad grin.

Christian eyed her contemplatively. “Your personal guarantee, huh? I’m doomed,” he said shaking his head. Then, after punching her on the shoulder playfully, he walked away chuckling.

She rolled her eyes at the comment but felt a smile tug at her lips as she watched him go. Something had changed between them. The air was lighter, the smiles came easier. Letting go for those few minutes, playing in the snow, had alleviated all the apprehension that had previously been between them.

And it made her think that maybe it was possible...

Maybe they could be friends after all.

Eight by Village

 

8

 

“George tells me that the café isn’t doing well.”

Christian felt his stomach sink at the words as he met his father’s eyes over the dinner table.

Sunday night dinner with the family. Since he’d moved back into the city, it had happened every second week and he didn’t know why he was putting himself through it when all it turned into was his father telling him how he was fucking up his life that particular week.

He took a bite of his pasta and chewed it slowly before he responded. “Business is slowly picking up,” he said. Granted very slowly but he wasn’t going to tell his father that.

“It’s incredible to me that with all the resources you have available to you, you can still manage to fail at this,” his father said leaning back into his chair.

“Now Graham…,” his mother began.

“No mom it’s okay,” he said stopping her before she could say anymore. “It isn’t a Laurent family meal until dad gets his digs in.” He tossed his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair.

“This is the problem with the boy, Patricia. He’s been coddled by the women in this family for so long that he can barely stand to be critiqued.” His eyes drilled into Christian’s. “You better get yourself together, Christian. You only have a couple of months left to prove yourself.”

Christian clenched and unclenched his hands before he got up from the table. “Grandma,” he said moving over to her, “I’ll come visit you again soon.” He met her worried eyes and kissed her on the cheek.

After doing the same to his mother, he forced himself to acknowledge his father without an abrupt nod and walked towards the front door.

“Christian.”

He’d made it to the foyer and was almost done putting on his wool coat when his grandmother caught up with him.

“Try not to take what he says to heart dear,” she said, coming up to him and brushing his fingers away so she could help him do up his buttons.

He caught her hand and held it, stopping her from the activity. “It’s no wonder he thinks I’m useless, considering my grandma is still helping me get dressed,” he said teasingly, trying not to let her see his frustration.

She patted his hand and smiled up at him. “Your grandfather was not an easy man, Christian. He never knew how to talk your father either. Try to understand—,”

He kissed her on the forehead to stop her. He knew she was trying to help but he didn’t want to hear the excuses. “Go back,” he said softly before letting her hand go. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he gave her one last smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, opened the front door and walked out of the house.

“Where’s Carson? Where is that guy?” Christian said abruptly as he looked around for his friend.

He was feeling pretty good now. Lounging in the VIP room at the Ivory Nightclub with three of his closest female friends – Je … ssica, Rose? And some other chick— and he was having a grand ol' time.

Ruthie -? leaned in to him, her mouth pressed against his ear, “Who knows, handsome? How ‘bout we go and find him.” She reached for his hand and tried to pull him up but he tossed it away from him.

“No can do, Ricky,” he said picking up his drink. “You see, this bottle doesn’t want me to leave and I can’t disappoint it. You understand.”

“Rachel,” she said with a pout.

He raised a questioning brow as he gulped down some of his beer.

“My name is Rachel,” she said, frustration starting to sneak into her voice.

“Isn’t that what I said?” He put the bottle down and turned to face her fully. “Can I be honest?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Sometimes when I'm around a woman as beautiful as you, my tongue trips up,” he said, voice soft, eyes intense. “There’s something about the very sight of you that..." he paused as if trying to come up with the words. "Would it be too much to say that it makes my heart flip?” His gaze fell to her mouth. “I must be a fool,” he said, his thumb rubbing her bottom lip gently. “Why I haven’t I kissed you yet?”

She leaned in towards him as if in a trance, all anger gone now, but just as their lips were about to touch, he pulled away. “Hold that thought,” he said with a devilishly boyish grin, grabbed his bottle and stood up trying to ignore the way the world was swaying before him.

Moving away from the woman, he walked up to the balcony and leaned against the railing looking at the crowd below on the dance floor. So maybe he wasn’t having that much fun, he thought taking another swig of his drink. It didn’t matter whether it was a different club or different women; the whole scene was getting old and predictable. Carson was nowhere in sight and the only other person he could think of to relieve his boredom was... he straightened, why the hell not?  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a phone call.

Taylor squinted as she twisted around the grinding bodies on the dance floor and peered around the room. With a heavy sigh, she wondered why she had to spend her Sunday night this way.

It was typical that Christian had called her right when she was drifting off to sleep and while she had been tempted to ignore his request, something in the tone of his voice had forced her out of bed and into her down jacket.

She hadn’t bothered to change out of her jogging pants or get ready in any way – instead she’d crammed a knit cap on her head, shoved her feet into thick-soled boots and headed to the trendy nightclub foolishly expecting to get in.

She almost hadn’t. Skipping the line, she’d walked right up to the doors and flashed her ID but the bouncer had taken one look at her and told her in the most gratingly condescending voice, “Not in this lifetime, bud.”

However, remembering what Christian had told her, she stood her ground and with a loud assertion stated that she was on the list. He didn’t look like he believed her but after she’d goaded him into looking at the clipboard; he’d been forced to give in. She’d chuckled to herself after he’d reluctantly waived her into the club but her smile was gone now.

Where was he? The club was so packed that she didn’t know how she was going to find him. Then something, some sort of sixth sense, made her look up and there he was, appearing as if she’d conjured him up with her thoughts. His back was to her but she could tell that it was him. The curve of the back, the cut of the hair, even the way that he stood made it clear that she was looking at Christian.

She walked up to the stairwell only to be stopped by another bouncer. Oh you have got to be kidding me, she thought with some annoyance and was so annoyed that she considered turning around and leaving. It just wasn’t worth it.

Still contemplating whether she should stay or go she felt a heavy arm drape over her shoulders. She looked up, eyes in full glare mode, when she realized that it was Carson.

“Carson!”

“Taylor. What are you doing here?” he asked with a grin.

“I’m wondering the same thing myself actually,” she said dryly.

“This kid’s with me,” Carson said to the bouncer as he pulled her up the stairs to the VIP lounge.

“Actually,” she continued, “Christian called me asking to meet him here.”

Carson raised both brows as he pushed open the door. “And you just came running?”

“Well...uh,” she shrugged. “He didn’t sound too good so I thought maybe something was wrong...”

Carson looked at her for a second before nodding. “He hasn’t told me anything but I’m thinking something happened. He hasn’t stopped drinking since we got here.”

She looked over at Christian who was still leaning against the balcony but what she hadn’t seen before was the woman draped over his chest. The girl had her arms wrapped around his waist as she kissed him on the neck. Taylor felt her jaw tense as she watched the girl’s lips make its way from his neck to his mouth and then back to his neck again.

Christian didn’t appear that into it, his arms hung loosely beside him, one hand gripping a beer bottle instead of a curve, but that didn’t stop Taylor from being annoyed by the scene. How dare Christian call her, force her out of her nice comfortable bed so that she could stand around and witness this?

She contemplated leaving again but Carson kept her locked to him as he walked towards the two at the railing.

“Christian, I have something for you,” Carson said cheerfully as they came up to the pair.

Christian looked at them and when he saw her, a grin came over his face. “Taylor!” He pushed the girl away from him and walked over to her. Copying Carson, he put his arm around her, forcing Carson to let go, and pulled her over to one of the oversized couches in the room.

The girl he had left standing looked miffed but once she saw Carson, she put a smile on her face and sidled up to him. For a brief moment Taylor felt bad for him but knowing Carson could take care of himself, she turned her full attention back to Christian.

“You came,” Christian said grinning.

“Uh, yeah, I did.” Taylor didn’t know what to make of this cheerfully goofy version of Christian.

 “You know what you need? A drink,” he said with a grin. “Lara?” He called to the hostess manning the VIP room. “Get my friend here something to warm his belly and put hair on his chest.”

“No, no don’t...” Taylor started to protest but the woman was already gone. She sighed and turned back to Christian. “I’m not staying. I have school tomorrow and I don’t have time for this.”

He leaned forward and looked directly in her eyes. “Then why did you come, Mooreland?” he asked seriously.

Caught off guard by the intensity in his deep eyes, she eased back nervously. Telling herself not to lose focus, she looked away and lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. “I thought something was wrong. I didn’t realize you were just here getting wasted. Look Christian,” she said frowning, her eyes on the patrons in the VIP room, “not everyone is like you. We can’t all treat life as this great big game. Some of us have responsibilities. I have responsibilities and they don’t include sitting around getting drunk with you.”

She shifted her gaze back to him to see how he was reacting to her speech and incredulously found him—eyes closed, body slumped, head resting on the back of the couch—out like a light.

She rolled her eyes, stood up, and stomped over to Carson, “I’m leaving,” she said, through gritted teeth and was about to leave when Carson blocked her path.

He looked over at Christian sleeping on the couch and stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry you had to come out of your way like this but since you’re here, can I ask you to do one little favour for me?”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“Christian drove here and since I’m in no state to drive and as you can see,” he sent an ironic glance Christian’s way, “he’s in no state to drive, could you take his car and send him home for me?”

She shook her head but Carson interjected before he could refuse, “Do this one thing for me and Christian and I will owe you one. Anything you want.”

Narrowed eyes, she scoffed, “Anything?”

“Anything you want,” he repeated. “Come on, Taye, just this one time.”

“Fine,” Taylor huffed. “But you both will really owe me one. What’s the address?”

 ...

It took a curious looking but helpful doorman, a lot of pulling, and several moments of Taylor wanting to pull what was left of her hair out, to get, a heavier than he looked, Christian into his top floor apartment and onto his living room couch.

Breathing hard, hands on her hips, her gaze came up to look around the apartment; it was spacious, decorated simply and incredibly neat. The only thing that wasn’t pristine was an ancient looking bookshelf crammed with all kinds of books and pieces of art.

She looked back down at him lying on the couch and watched him sleep. He looked somewhat gentle, she had to admit, even a little vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, she went back to business. She got up, dragged the boots off his feet and finding a throw across a chair, tossed it over his body.

Her good deed done she prepared to go home when a thought stopped her. Christian was completely dead to the world ... defenceless. Totally at her mercy. Didn’t he deserve a little payback for dragging her out and messing up her night?

A grin on her face, she looked around and found exactly what she was looking for. Grabbing it, she walked back to the couch and dropped on her knees. Her smile growing by the second, she made quick work of his face. When she was done, she leaned back on the back of her legs and looked at her handiwork.

With a sigh, she noticed that her work didn’t really deter from his good looks. God, he was really too good looking for words. Brushing a lock of hair back from his forehead, she stuck out a tongue childishly and got up to leave.

Suddenly his hand shot up and grasped her wrist. Letting out a loud shriek, Taylor looked down and noticed that his eyes were still closed but he was mumbling something. She leaned in closer and the words eased out of his mouth like a whisper, “Don’t go.”

Taylor blinked but reached for his hand to remove it from her wrist. It only tightened. “Christian, stop it.”

In response, Christian tugged her closer and she fell over his chest. Exasperated she looked at him sideways, noticing with disbelief that his eyes were still closed. “Christian...”

“... Don’t go... Taye...”  The words made her stomach drop with guilt and something else that she wasn’t sure she wanted to define. He needed her, somehow he needed her to be there, and part of her really wanted to be there for him.

She freed herself from his grasp, eased up so that she was sitting at the edge of the sofa and looked down at him. She wondered why he’d gotten so drunk tonight. She knew that he wasn’t completely getting along with his dad these days, was he having family problems? Better yet, why had he called her in the first place?

She shook her head when she realized that none of it was really any of her business and while they were friendlier than before, his private life was just that. His. She reached for a music magazine on the coffee table and eased herself down on the floor, her back resting against the sofa.  She’d stay a few more minutes, just to make sure he was okay and then get out of there. She had class in the morning and getting home was already going to be tough. She flipped open the magazine and began to read.

End Notes:
Sorry guys. I suck. I'll try not to make you wait six months for another update.
Nine by Village
Author's Notes:

Well, hey. This is a little awkward showing up the party so late. Seriously, I`m really sorry for letting two years go by without an update. I promise to be better.

 

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?

Ten by Village

 

10

 

Taylor scowled at the toilet she was cleaning and silently cursed Christian again for the third time that day. “He will die by my hands,” she muttered to herself while she scrubbed it for the last time and flipped the seat down.

“Who’s that?” Someone said teasingly from behind her.

She yelled out in surprise and whipped around, accidentally slapping the person’s face with the scrub brush.

Christian jerked back, cheek wet with toilet water. “Taylor!”

Taylor’s eyes widened, as the brush slipped through her fingers to make a soft thud on the ground. A bubble of laughter rippled through her and she fought it hard as she watched water drip from Christian’s face. One corner of her mouth tugged up and she quickly covered it with her hand.

“Taylor,” he growled, stepping towards her menacingly.

“Christian,” she said lifting her hands innocently, “let’s talk about this like adults...” She ducked under his arm and booked it out of the bathroom as fast as she could. “Tomorrow!” she yelled as the door swung shut behind her.

She dashed through the cafe, passing George, who was ringing a customer through and Carson, who was delivering large cappuccinos to two teenage girls and up the stairs to the break room. Once there, she let the laughter overtake her. She hadn’t meant to hit Christian with the toilet brush, but wasn’t that just poetic justice at work?

It wasn’t long before she heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs. She backed away from the door and waited.

He appeared at the threshold, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. “You did that on purpose.”

Taylor shook her head, biting her lip to hold back her smile. “Of course, I didn’t.”

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. She shifted backwards.

“This is payback for me putting you on bathroom duty all week.” He was getting closer.

She inched backwards. “Man, you are paranoid. You should do something about that.”

Her back hit the wall and she winced. There was nowhere left to go now. She watched him close the gap between them until he was right in front of her.

He yanked her towards him. “You,” he began, locking her head underneath his arm, “are a dead man.”

She wiggled, trying to get out of his grasp but it was no use. He made a fist with his right hand and she gasped. He wasn’t going to punch her was he? The knuckles of his fist began to rub against her head. “A noogie? Really? ...OW!”

She heard him chuckle and she rolled her eyes as he continued to rub. “Damn it—ow! Will you stop that?”

“What the hell is going on here and most importantly why wasn’t I invited?”

Christian turned with Taylor still locked in his hold, and raised both brows at a grinning Carson and a frowning Isabel.

“We heard yelling so we thought something was wrong,” Isabel said, her eyes going back and forth between the two.

“Something is wrong,” Taylor replied, sending them a pleading look. “A little help here.”

Carson shook his head. “I learned a long time ago never to step in between a lover’s spat.”

Isabel’s eyes flew to Christian’s face, her eyes narrowing, and Taylor almost laughed at her intense gaze. Isabel didn’t actually think that they were together, did she? Taylor’s heart leapt at the thought but she smothered it quickly.

She looked up just in time to catch Christian shoot a look at Carson before he finally released her. She stumbled out of his grasp and touched her neck delicately. “I can’t believe you’re twenty-six.”

He shrugged. “An eye for an eye.”

“Real mature, toilet face,” she said, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“What did you call me?” He took a step towards her and she jumped back. She pivoted around, squeezed between Carson and Isabel, and dashed out of the room.

She paused on the staircase waiting to see if he would follow her. She heard him mutter, “That brat,” laughter clear in his voice and she grinned to herself. She liked the way he made the word “brat” sound like an endearment.

“Toilet face? Do I even want to know?” Carson asked.

There was a slight pause.

“No,” was the abrupt response.

...

Alana walked into the shop a few minutes before closing time. Taylor looked up from counting her till to wave at her. “Hey Alana.”

“Hey Taylor!”she said with a smile.

She looked lovely as usual, Taylor thought. Fresh and pretty as ever in high boots and a tailored white coat. She made Taylor feel gross and dumpy in her creased and coffee stained work clothes.

“Alana.” Christian stepped from behind the counter to greet her. “What are you doing here?” He gave her a one-armed hugged before ushering her to a stool.

“I came by because I have a proposition for you,” she said, her brown eyes twinkling up at him.

“Uh oh,” Carson said, as he stepped out of the kitchen to greet her.

She ignored her brother and continued. “I know things have been kind of slow for you guys lately and I thought there must be something we can do to get butts into seats. And then I figured it out.”

Christian waited for her to continue, a patient smile on his face.

“How about you hold events here after hours?” She got up from her seat and walked around the empty room. “You have loads of room inside and outside, right? It’s such a great space that I think you should consider holding cool functions here. And I have the perfect event!”

“Oh really?” he said with a grin.

“A couple of my friends want to do an art auction to raise money for Art 4 Us; you know that charity that helps raise money so that kids can learn art? I told them that this would be the perfect venue to hold the event.”

She raised both hands towards a far wall. “Line up artwork on these walls. Set a band in the corner for some live music and serve food and your amazing coffee and it’s the art shindig of the year! The Brew House will be in every paper and blog by morning. What do you think?”

Carson looked at Alana with astonishment. “You thought this up all by yourself? That’s not a half bad plan, squirt.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, keeping her eyes on Christian. “Christian?”

Christian continued to smile at her, but now a look of approval gleamed in his eyes. “Unlike this idiot, you got the best parts of your gene pool. It’s a great idea, kiddo.” He gently rubbed her hair and Taylor looked away at the sight.

Taylor hated that she begrudged the way Christian treated Alana but she couldn't help herself. Christian was always so caring and attentive where Alana was concerned and it made her want to roll her eyes. Alana wasn’t a kid or a puppy, yet he treated her with the kind of sweet delicacy that made Taylor’s teeth grind.

“What do you think, Taylor?” Alana asked turning to look at her.

Taylor shut the till, mentally shaking away her irritated feelings, and looked up with a smile. “I agree that it’s a great idea. It’s better than anything these dummies could have come up with on their own anyway,” she said dryly.

“With these looks, who needs brains?” Carson said with a wink.

She started to laugh but was cut off by Christian grabbing her around the neck in a loose chokehold.

“Will you stop that?”

“Nah,” Christian responded as he turned back to a suddenly fascinated looking Alana. “When do you want to do the auction?”

“Uh,” Alana looked away from Christian’s arm around Taylor’s neck to look up at his face. “Next weekend?”

“Alright,” he said with a nod. “We’ll book it for then. Give me a few minutes to clean up and I’ll drive you home.” He moved towards the stairs, dragging Taylor along with him who was alternating between laughing and cursing at him the entire way.

Alana watched them go up the stairs until they disappeared. She whipped around to look at Carson who had also been watching the pair. “Do I want to know what’s going on between those two?” she asked bemusedly.

Carson shrugged but then started to whistle a few bars of “Can you feel the love tonight?” as he made his way back to the kitchen.

Alana put her hands on her hips, her eyes swinging from the kitchen door to the staircase and finally back to the kitchen door. “Is that a no?”

...

Live upbeat music and laughter filled the Brew House as people dressed in various ensembles of black, white and red – the colors of the Art 4 Us logo – moved easily through the space.

A few tables and lounging chairs were scattered around the room but most were removed to create a movable space so that art lovers could peruse the works of art on the walls or walk around the sculptures in the room.

Christian, wearing a tailored black jacket, a red gingham shirt, dark denim, and black Vans, was working the coffee bar. A flash went off and he looked over by the fireplace to see Alana and Carson taking a picture with Amelia Bayle of the society papers.

His mouth quirked up at the sight as he went back to making the signature chocolate and coffee martinis he’d thought up for the party.  

Taylor walked up to the bar, dressed in the black corduroy blazer that he’d bought for him when they’d first met, a white tee, and dark jeans, and placed his tray down on the counter. Christian was so used to seeing him in his work uniform or baggy sportswear that it was a shock to his system to see him dressed that way. He’d almost forgotten that Taylor was kind of ... good-looking. For a dude.

“Christian!” Taylor yelled over the noise.

“What is it, Mooreland?”

“Great party, huh?” he said with a grin.

Christian smirked. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “Shut up and get me another round of the house special, okay?”

Christian laughed. He didn’t know why he got off on teasing Taylor but he did. From the very beginning he’d done it but the inclination had gotten even worse lately. He enjoyed how quickly Taylor got annoyed, like he’d never been teased before, and how his good-naturedness eventually would get the better of him and he’d end up cracking up too.

Ever since they’d had that talk at his house, Christian felt a certain closeness with Taylor. He normally didn’t open up about his family with anyone but talking to Taylor about his dad had felt right. Taylor was low maintenance and uncomplicated and he made Christian feel an easiness that he only felt with people he’d known forever. Something inside him warned him not to get too close too fast, but he had to admit that it was probably too late for that.

Taylor’s fingers were tapping rhythmically against the countertop and Christian noticed how slim they were. His hands looked small enough to fit easily into his own. Why had he never noticed that Taye’s hands were so delicate looking before?

Christian glanced at his face. Taylor was looking back at the room, his head bopping to the music, a small smile playing on his lips. There was something about the way the light was hitting his profile that did something to Christian’s insides. The way it softened the sharp angles of his cheeks, making his neck look long and delicate, making him look ... Beautiful, Christian realized with a pang.

Christian stumbled a little at the thought. Taylor wasn’t beautiful. Taylor was Taylor - his funny, sometimes surprising, little buddy. Nothing more. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Here,” he barked, pushing the new batch of martinis towards him. He avoided Taylor’s eyes, making a show of pouring more martinis.

Taylor said something but he ignored it, instead he looked out into the crowd to take stock of the women in the room. It had clearly been too long since he’d last been with a woman if he was finding Taylor of all people beautiful. Isabel walked into his sight line wearing a short, tight dress and fire engine red lipstick. He’d kept away from her after he’d mistakenly led her on the night of the renovation party but she never hid the fact that she was attracted to him and looking for a good time. Why shouldn’t he take what she was offering?

She stopped at the bar, sliding her tray towards him.

“Ready for another round?” he asked.

She caught his eyes with hers. “Always ready,” she said, her lips curving up slowly, the suggestion in her eyes unmistakable.

He felt Taylor’s gaze on his profile, as if he was waiting for Christian’s response and a rebellious part of him reacted instinctively. He gave Isabel a sensual smile, languid like hot, thick caramel. “Is that a promise?”

She dropped her gaze to his lips as her tongue glided over her own. “It can be,” she purred.

“It will be,” he countered, his eyes catching hers for a few hot seconds before he placed the drinks on the tray and slid it back to her.

He heard a choking noise coming from Taylor’s direction. He ignored it. Someone called him from the other side of the bar and after giving Isabel another slow smile, he walked away.

He could feel Taylor’s gaze on his back and his chest tightened.

He flexed his shoulders as if to shake it off. If he wanted to hook up with Isabel on his own time that was his own damn business. What right did Taylor have to judge him?

And why did he suddenly feel so hollow?

...

Taylor stared at Christian’s back in disbelief, her cheeks slightly burning at the performance she’d just witnessed.

It will be? She sputtered out an incredulous laugh. Give me a break. Isabel turned slightly at the sound and looked over at her.

“Oh. It’s you. Didn’t see you there,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Taylor mentally pulled back at the tone. Where had that come from? Isabel tended to get pretty nasty when it came to women who threatened her “relationship” with Christian but Isabel had nothing to fear from her, so why the attitude?

Isabel pursed her lips and gave the tray of drinks in front of Taylor a long look. “Shouldn’t you be handing those out?”

“Shouldn’t you?” she retorted, looking at Isabel’s tray, and then instantly regretted it. Why was she engaging in this pettiness? It wasn’t like her at all.

Isabel lifted her chin stubbornly. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I like Christian and want some alone time with him. And I’m pretty sure he’s into me too.” Her eyes narrowed as she gave Taylor a long once-over. “So, what’s your excuse?”

Taylor looked away from Isabel’s cold stare suddenly feeling transparent and vulnerable. She picked up her tray. “Relax,” she said with a short laugh, ignoring the way her heart was racing. “I was just resting my feet. Have at 'im.” She turned her back to Isabel, keeping the stiff smile on her face as she walked away.

The tingling feeling at the back of her neck told her that Isabel was staring at her, so she straightened her back even further. She wasn’t going to give herself away, especially not to Isabel of all people. She had to get this inconsequential, little thing she had for Christian under control before it betrayed her.

Two partygoers took drinks from her tray and she smiled at them. When they were gone, she looked back towards the coffee bar to see that Christian had returned to Isabel. Isabel said something to him that made him smile and Taylor felt the sharp stab of jealousy pierce through her.

Taking a shaky breath, she turned her back on the two and made her way through the throng of people, missing the fact that Christian’s eyes snapped back to her as soon as she looked away.

Eleven by Village

 

11

 

Taylor was in a shitty mood and everyone in the cafe knew it.

It started when she’d tripped over a suitcase on her way out of the house that morning...

“Josh and I are going to California!”

Taylor stared at her mother calmly not at all surprised by this sudden declaration. “You’re going where?” She looked at Josh. He shrugged and returned his attention back to his video game.

“The show ‘The Race: Fathers & Daughters’ wants to do a spinoff called ‘The Race: Mothers & Sons’. It’s the same set-up; mothers and their sons will travel around North America using their wits to get to the finish line. If we get on the show, I’ll be a household name by next year! Can you believe it? The audition is in two days.”

“You’re going to California with what money?” Taylor asked abruptly.

“Calm down, Taylor—,”

“I am calm.”

“—we’re taking the bus! I got a great deal. Same with the hotel. It’ll be perfectly fine. After that young man of yours helped us last time. We have plenty of extra cash.”

Taylor felt her blood boiling. “First of all, he is NOT my young man. Secondly, there is NO extra cash. I’m working my butt off so that I can pay him back for a million things including the rent he paid and you think we have extra cash?”

“We’ll be able to pay him ten times over if I get this show, T. You have to stop worrying so much!”

“Are you kidding me?” Taylor yelled. “If I stop worrying, you’re done! You won’t get to play make believe anymore. You’ll have to go out and find a real job. God, don’t you get it? I’m keeping us afloat. I’m keeping everything together while you continue to live in some fantasyland. You want me to stop worrying, mom? I will when you grow the hell up!”

Her mother acted so quickly that Taylor felt the sting on her cheek before she realized she’d been slapped. She raised her hand to her face.

“Taylor...” her mother began.

Josh was up on his feet, his eyes wide as he watched them nervously.

“I have to go to school,” Taylor said stiffly. “Good luck in California.”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said to her back. “Taylor, baby, I didn’t mean it.”

Taylor paused at the door. “I did.”

--

Taylor shook away the memory, gripping the whip cream dispenser so hard that her hand started to throb. She didn’t regret what she’d said. Her mother had shirked responsibility for too long and Taylor wasn’t going to be around to hold her hand forever. When was she going to get it through her head that she couldn’t keep living this way?

She slammed the dispenser down on the counter and everyone in her vicinity looked up.

And, there was that. She’d hoped to have a quiet night at the coffee shop only to show up to see the place packed with people. The Arts 4 Us event had been a huge success and the Brew House had gotten incredible exposure from it. The picture of Carson and Christian on the front of the society papers hadn’t seemed to hurt either. The shop was brimming with women.

Taylor started to wipe down the countertop, her hands moving furiously against the surface. Like Christian needed any more women around him. Wasn’t Isabel and Alana enough?

Suddenly someone grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her away from the counter. “What th-?”

“We need to talk,” Christian said, frowning down at her. He let go of her collar to grab her arm and pull her upstairs.

He stopped as soon as they got into the break room. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

He crossed his arms in front of him. “I repeat, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It becomes my business when your bad attitude is making my customers uncomfortable.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes searching Taylor’s face. “This isn’t like you. What’s going on?”

There was concern in his eyes and she softened slightly when she realized that he was worried about her. “Just family stuff. It’s nothing,” she said, looking away.

Christian walked to the door and closed it. “It’s not nothing.” He turned back to her. “Hey – I unloaded on you about my family. The least you could do is the same.” He leaned against the long dining table and waited.

Taylor shook her head.

“I’ve got all day,” he said with a shrug.

She huffed out an exasperated breath. Clearly, he wasn’t going to leave it alone and the knot in her chest was telling her that she did want to unburden herself to someone. Anyone. She didn’t have any close girl friends. Her closest friends from high school had all went away for school and as for her social life, it was hard to have one of those when all you did was go to class, work and go home.

She capitulated and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, “Ever since I was little, my mom was ...” She looked away.  “...a dreamer. We’d spend whole afternoons making villages out of cardboard boxes and newspaper. It was cool having a mom who was a kid at heart. But the thing is ...” Taylor sighed and slumped against the wall.

“The thing is I grew up. I couldn’t pretend that we were in the jungles of South America when the electricity went off, or on a voyage to the North Pole when we didn’t have heat for days. And when she got it into her head that being an actress was the path to success, I realized pretty quickly that I couldn’t really count on her.”

Christian nodded, his face attentive.

“I go to school, I work, I take care of my brother – and all I ask is that she takes care of her responsibilities. Today I – her bags were packed, hers and my brother’s – she said she was going to California and I snapped.”

“What? Forever?” Christian said with surprise.

Taylor shook her head. “No, for a few days. It’s for another stupid audition that won’t work out.” She ran a hand over her hair. She could feel tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of working my ass off while she goes off to live a dream that isn’t going to come true. I’ve got so much stuff – the bills, school ... the money I owe you—,”

“Stop,” Christian said cutting her off. “The money’s not important.”

“Oh?” Taylor gave a sarcastic laugh. “Must be nice.”

“Meaning what?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“It means you’re rich,” she said bitterly. “Of course, money’s not important to you. It must be nice not to have to worry about how you’re going to pay for your school books or put food in your fridge.” Her voice rose in anger. “It must be nice not have to enslave yourself to some asshole because you ran into his car when you were sick!”

Taylor knew she was going overboard but her emotions were high and she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. She’d been holding everything inside for so long, too long, and she was ready to explode.

“Taylor,” Christian ground out, his body stiffening.

Taylor ignored the warning in his voice. “What? What, Christian? You punished me for being poor the moment we met! You made me feel small,” she said, voice rising. “You made me feel like I was nothing!” 

A whoosh of air escaped Christian’s mouth, as if he’d just been punched in the gut. “Shit, Taylor,” he said softly. He looked into her eyes and the regret there made the knot in her stomach multiply, one lodging right in her throat.

She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. She ran the back of her hand over her eyes to make sure she didn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

The words floated softly in the air, slicing through the thick tension in the room like a knife.

Taylor took a breath, closing her eyes to stop the tears, but she couldn’t. They gathered at the corners and gently trickled down her face.

She rubbed her hand over her face, eyes still closed. She was horrified, hurt, still a bit angry, but that knot, that horrible knot, was gone.

Strong arms wrapped around her and without thought about who she was, or what she was supposed to be, she let those arms comfort her. Christian was warm and sturdy, much sturdier than he looked, and she knew that if given a chance she could stay there forever.

When was the last time that she’d felt safe – when she’d felt like she could count on someone other than herself? She couldn’t even remember, it had been that long.

Taylor slid her hands against his back, liking the way his muscles felt against her palms. He was so solid. And warm. She wanted to burrow her face into his chest and cocoon herself in that warmth.

He rubbed his chin against her hair and she smiled into his chest. What would it be like if he was hers? If she could be with him like this always? If she could touch him whenever she pleased? It was a line of thinking that she should stay away from but she couldn’t help herself.

They stood like that for a while, cafe sounds muffled outside the break room door. Then there was air between them and Christian was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“You alright?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

She looked away. “Yeah ...thanks. Uh, I’m sorry. For what I said before.”

“I deserved it,” Christian admitted. “Taye, I don’t think you’re nothing. Far from it. The way you live, how you carry yourself – I think you’re ... an amazing person.” His mouth quirked in a self-mocking smile. “Damn, this is awkward.”

She laughed at that but her heart wouldn’t stop fluttering at his words. This gorgeous man in front of her thought she was amazing. How was she ever to get over her crush on him when he said things like that to her.

“It’s cool,” she said with a smile. “I’ll never tell anyone that you’re a marshmallow inside.”

Christian arched a brow. “And I won’t tell anyone that you cry like a little girl.”

Taylor ignoring that statement, punched him hard in the shoulder and then winced at the pain in her knuckles.

Christian snickered. "Dude, are you sure you hit puberty?"

"I wasn't using all my strength. I didn't want to hurt you," she said casually.

"Of course," he said, pulling a face that made her laugh.

He caught the time on his watch. “We should get back down. It's almost closing time."

Taylor sighed and looked outside. She didn’t want to go home, not to that empty house. Not to the angry words and bitter feelings that were surely still lingering in the air.

“Come home with me.”

Taylor’s eyes whipped to his face, her heart thudding hard against her chest. “Wh-What?” she stammered.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Don’t go home to an empty house.”

Taylor blinked. It was as if he’d read her mind.

“I’ve got plenty of room. Besides,” he continued, eyes sparkling. “I owe you a little something for the gift you left on my face last weekend.”

Her lips twitched at the memory. If only she’d taken a picture. “Will there be pizza?” she asked, throwing caution to the wind. She really didn’t want to go home and he was offering. What did she have to lose?

“I’m letting you sleep on my floor. Now you want me to feed you?” Christian folded his arms and raised a brow.

Taylor grinned. “That’s right.”

“You won’t starve,” he said with an amused gleam in his eyes.

Taylor hesitated for a bare second before she nodded. “Then I’m in. Thanks.”

“No prob. And if you're lucky, maybe I'll show you how to throw a punch ... like a man," he said with a smirk.

Taylor flipped him off and he laughed as they made their way back downstairs.

...


Christian scattered mozzarella over the pizza dough in front of him, then layered it with sausage, tomatoes, and hot peppers.

Taylor reached across the island and spread a handful of olives on the top. He looked up at Christian and grinned.

Christian couldn’t help but grin back at that smiling face. “Feta?” he asked, pointing to the bowl of crumpled feta beside Taylor.

Taylor scooped some of the cheese up in his hands and spread it over the pizza. “Done."

Christian grabbed the tray and slid the pizza inside the oven. 

“I gotta say,” Taylor said. “I’m impressed. Making pizza from scratch? Didn’t think you had it in you.”

The look of admiration in his eyes belied the sarcastic words and Christian felt something warm swell inside him. He wiped his hands with a dishtowel. “I learned a few things when I was living in Fiesole last year.” He pressed his hands flat against the island and leaned forward. “If you’re lucky, next time I’ll make you something more rustic Italian."

Taylor blinked at him. “Next time?”

“Uh ... yeah.” He shrugged, acting like he planned meals with guys all the time. “What? You got plans?”

Taylor laughed, easing back in his seat. “Maybe.”

Christian made a face. “I doubt it.”

A piece of tomato flew his way and Christian dodged it easily, grinning broadly at Taylor. Taylor always made him smile. It was getting to the point that Christian went to work looking forward to seeing him and when he wasn’t there, the day seemed longer somehow.

Too deep, a voice whispered in the back of his head but he brushed it aside. So, what if he was finding it hard to remember what life was like before Taylor? So what if he was already planning future evenings with the guy? Christian knew exactly what he was doing. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway.

Taylor grabbed an olive and popped it into his mouth. “So, Italy, huh? Must have been amazing, right?”

Christian could hear the wistfulness in his voice. “It’s a great place. Especially if you love history and art like I do. It’s everywhere in everything... You’ve never been?”

“No. I’ve never been out of the country. I don’t even have a passport,” he said a bit self-consciously.

Christian felt a pang at the way Taylor’s voice dropped at the words. “One day you’ll get there. Maybe after you graduate."

Taylor shrugged and dropped his head. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe, definitely. What’s the first stamp you’d want on your passport?”

“Uhh...” Taylor put his hand on his chin and thought about it for a moment.

While Taylor mulled it over, Christian bent down to open his wine cooler. “Want a drink?” he asked from below.

Taylor’s head popped over the island as he pulled a rack towards him. “Whaddaya have in mind?”

He unearthed a bottle of red and placed it on the counter.

“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” Taylor said as he picked up the bottle to look at the label.

“We’ll change that,” he responded.

Taylor reached for the bottle and a frisson of awareness shot through Christian when their fingers brushed. Taylor looked down, dropping his hand into his lap and Christian knew that he’d felt it too.

Christian mentally shook himself. No, that couldn’t be right. There was nothing between him and Taylor. Celibacy wasn’t looking good on him if this was a by-product of it.

He should have hooked up with Isabel.

He went through the production of finding the wine glasses and opening the bottle of wine, as he recalled how he hadn’t been able to go through with hooking up with Isabel the night of the fundraiser. A part of him had wanted to but an even stronger part of him knew that it would have been a mistake.

His employees were off limits, he’d made that rule for himself from the get-go, but Taylor had shaken him. Briefly, very briefly, he’d shaken him and Christian hadn’t known what to do about it.

But he had it under control now. He repeated it again: There was nothing between him and Taylor, other than a rapidly deepening friendship, and that was all there was to it.

He poured Taylor a glass of the deep burgundy liquid and pushed it towards him. “Drink some of the best Tuscany has to offer.”

Taylor took a careful drink of the liquid, thoughtfully assessing the taste. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? Dude, that’s a five hundred dollar bottle of wine.”

“Yeah?” Taylor looked at the contents of his glass carefully and then back at Christian. “Not bad.”

Christian’s laughter reverberated around the room. Laughter that came from deep inside his belly. He looked at Taylor who was trying to stop a smile from coming over his face and he felt a deep affection at the sight. This is why he liked Taylor. He was straightforward and unpretentious.

Taylor took another tentative sip. “Pretty good actually.”

A bit of red stained Taylor’s lips and Christian checked the impulse to reach over and rub them dry with his fingertips.

He jerked his eyes away from Taylor’s lips and swallowed. He was officially losing his mind. He took a deep gulp of his wine and finally looked over at Taylor again. Taylor made a face at him and Christian laughed, feeling no strange impulses. Good, everything was under control.

“The first place you’d go?” he picked up the threads of the previous conversation.

“Oh! Right, uh, well. I guess I’ve always wanted to try Paris. It just seems foreign and different without being too exotic, you know?” Christian liked the way Taylor’s eyes lit up when he got into a subject. The total lack of artifice was refreshing. “I like old things,” Taylor continued, “so I could probably spend days just walking and exploring the city without getting bored. I’ve always wanted to check out the Louvre.”

Christian wanted to take him there. To the Louvre and the Eiffel tower and all those tourist traps but also to the little cafe on Ile Saint Louis where he always had coffee every Sunday, to his friend Martin’s gallery in le Marais where some of his own artwork was hanging and to the seedy club in his old neighbourhood, where he’d had his share of late nights – or should he say, early mornings.

“You gotta do Greece and Japan then. Since you like old things. Maybe Egypt.”

Taylor nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. They all sound incredible. I just to want to travel, C. Experience something new.” 

He smiled at the sparkle in Taye’s eyes. There was something very young, very innocent about Taye. It still sometimes shocked him that the boy was of legal age. Taye needed someone to take him under his wing and help him navigate through manhood.

Maybe that explained these weird feelings, this tenderness he felt towards Taylor. Taylor was like the little brother he’d never had and Christian, being older and hey, more worldly, felt a brotherly need to help the kid discover life.

That’s all it was.

...


Taylor squirted a little toothpaste on the toothbrush Christian had lent her. Dinner had been amazing. Talking to Christian over pizza and surprisingly delicious wine had been the most fun she’d had in a long time. She smiled around her toothbrush when she recalled how he’d dabbed sauce from the side of her mouth. She’d been surprised by the gesture but pleased at the same.

She heard him rustling in his bedroom and she leaned her head back to look at him through the open door. He was placing a pile of clothes on his bed. He looked up and caught her watching him.

“You can borrow these,” he said, pointing to the clothes.

She looked down at the pair of jogging pants and sweatshirt and smiled. “Cool,” she said, her voice muffled by the toothbrush.

He opened a drawer, his back to her, and grasped the bottom edge of his sweater. “I got your bed all prepped in the living room,” he continued, pulling the top over his head.

Taylor inhaled sharply, her eyes ricocheting away from his body and back to the mirror in the bathroom.

The sound of clothes rustling tempted her eyes away from the mirror and back to Christian. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his broad back – tanned, smooth, and rippling with muscles. She gulped, swallowing some of the toothpaste in the process.

He hooked his thumbs around the waist of his jeans to pull them down and Taylor saw an inch of curved backside before her eyes skittered away.

Christian was getting naked. Right in front of her – okay, maybe not right in front of her but it was close enough – and the worst part of it all was she wanted to watch!  Her cheeks heated at the thought.

She heard him moving and she willed herself not to look back at him again. Not that she needed to anyway. Her imagination was filling in all the blanks. 

She rinsed out her mouth, eyes still averted, and put away the toothbrush. She counted to ten, then thirty, then sixty, before she turned to leave the bathroom.

Christian had already left the room, which explained why she hadn’t heard any noises for the last minute or so.

She raced to the bed and picked up the jogging pants and sweatshirt he’d left for her and turned right back into the bathroom to change.

Once done she walked back into the living room to find Christian lounging on her “bed” –he’d flattened his convertible sofa into a serviceable bed – and watching his flat screen.

“Make yourself right at home,” she said staring at him pointedly.

“Done,” he said grinning. “Pull up a pillow. We’re watching Shawshank Redemption.”

“You like this movie?” she said with surprise, plopping down on the sofa.

“Who doesn’t?”

“People who don't have taste,” she said with a grin. “It’s the greatest movie of all time.”

“Okay, simmer down over there," Christian interjected. "It's good but it's not that good."

“Oh? What’s better?” she demanded, turning her body towards him.

“The Godfather. Unforgiven. Star Wars—”

“Star Wars?” She burst out laughing. “I never pegged you as a sci-fi geek.”

“I’m not. And it’s speculative fiction,” he said with a cocked brow.

“Wo-ow,” she said stretching the word out as she fell back laughing. She clutched her stomach. “And I used to think you were cool.”

Suddenly the sofa cushion hit her squarely in the face – well, that was one way to shut her up. She gazed up at him from her position on the sofa with narrowed eyes.

He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. Taylor grabbed the wide cushion in both hands and with her whole body dived towards him.

She came up against something hard and looked up to see him pushing the cushion back with his fists. His eyes glittering with mischief, he shoved the cushion so hard that she fell backwards.

He pushed the cushion against her chest, locking her between it and the sofa. She struggled against it but he just shook his head. It reminded her off that day in the snow when he’d tackled her. He’d been looking down at her just like this – the kind of look that said he couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be – but his smile was different today. It was happy, yes, but also soft and tender and it made something inside her crack.

Before she could stop herself, she reached for him, her hand cupping his cheek, feeling the smooth, sharpness of his jaw. Christian stilled, his eyes boring into her face, but she barely noticed. She was too enraptured by the feel of him, by her hands curling against his cheek, by the back of her fingers sliding over his lips.

She sighed, and that small bit of air acted like lightning, breaking the thick, heavy silence between them.

Christian lurched backwards and was on his feet in an instant. “I’m going to bed,” he said abruptly, already turning away.

“Christian...” she began, her eyes wide with shock. What had she just done?  What had she been thinking?

“Good night.” His voice was harsh and she pressed her lips together tightly to avoid saying more.

She slumped down, her traitorous hand now curled up into a fist at her side, her chest so tight that she found it hard to breathe.

How was she supposed to face him again after this? She couldn’t – she really couldn’t. So she did the only thing she could think of to do, she grabbed her things, shoved on her boots and left.

...

Christian heard the sound of his front door closing from his bedroom. Another surge of anger swept through him and he punched a wall barely feeling the sting. Shit. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bruised hand over his face, his body pulsing with emotion. SHIT.

He could still feel Taylor’s hand on his face. The slow slide of his fingers on his lips. He groaned – frustration bubbling up inside him.

He’d felt it. That pulse of desire, the urge to take, and it scared the shit out of him.

He’d never been attracted to another man before. Never. Yet in that moment where fingers had touched lips, something powerful had overtaken him. It had taken everything in him to just. not. move.    

He shook his head, dragging his hand angrily through his hair. No. What he’d felt was an anomaly. A glitch. And it was never going to happen again.

Twelve by Village
Author's Notes:

I don't know what to say except that one of the main reasons that this update has taken so long is that I've been wavering on where I wanted to go with this story. After numerous rewrites, I realized that I wanted to stay the course and stick to what I was doing in the first place.

So, I'm sorry for the lateness of a chapter that might frustrate some, and thank you for sticking around.

 

12

 

 

Taylor opened her front door with a heavy sigh, not noticing that the lights were on inside. She kicked off her shoes and walked down the hall stopping when she realized that she wasn’t alone.

“Mom?”

Her mom was in the kitchen. Two burners were going at the same time and the aroma of garlic and spices wafted towards her.

Her mom turned to her with a tense smile. “I wondered when you’d get home. It’s almost one am.”

“What are you doing—,”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I thought I’d make dinner for tomorrow night,” she said as she waved a wooden spoon towards the stove.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in California?”

Her mother stirred a batch of pasta sauce for a moment, taking her time before she answered. “I decided not to go.” She put the spoon down and turned to face her.

“There were things said and done this morning that I don’t ever want to happen again. But I thought long and hard about what you said and I realized that you were right. I’ve been taking you for granted all this time.”

She paused and then took two steps towards her. “Oh, Taylor,” she said, reaching out to stroke the cheek she’d slapped hours earlier. “You’ve been my rock for so long. Like a husband, like a sister, like a friend. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was the one who was supposed to take care of you.”

Taylor choked up, not wanting to cry for a second time that day, but the tears fell unchecked. They were words that she hadn’t realized she’d needed to hear until that very moment.

Her mother wrapped her arms around her as Taylor cried into her shoulder. “Things are going to be different, Taye. I called a few friends after you left and I have two interviews set up with agencies.  I’m not going to be your burden anymore. I’m going to do things right from now on.”

Taylor let those words comfort her, even though a small, sceptical part of her didn’t know if she believe them.

And she cried. She cried for the years of frustration she’d spent working, missing life, stressed about things no teenager should have to worry about.

She cried because it had been so long since she’d been able to lean on her mother and have her soothe away her worries.

And she cried for the friend who’d held her, let her cry in his arms just like this, and was now gone.

...

 

“Where have you been?”

Taylor stared with shock as Carson pushed past her and walked into her house.

“C-Carson, what are you doing here?” she asked, clutching the door as she watched his gaze wander around the room, taking stock of her home.

He looked her over, and lifted a brow. “You look pretty good for someone on their deathbed.”

Not meeting his eyes, she pushed the door closed.

“When are you coming back to work,” he demanded.

“Soon.”

“Soon?” He folded his arms in front of him. “You’ve missed three shifts already. Normally I wouldn’t care but Christian’s been an ass all week and everyone’s sick of his shit. You need to come back to work.”

Taylor looked down. “I don’t think me being there is going to help.”

“What did you do?” he asked and Taylor’s eyes widened.

 “Wh-what?”

“Come on, man,” he said with exasperation. “Christian’s moods are dictated by you. When he’s happy, it’s because of you, when he’s angry it’s because of you. So what did you do?”

“That’s not true and I didn’t do anything!” she said, pushing away from the door to clear the mug and plate she’d left on the coffee table. Anything to keep busy. Anything to avoid Carson’s watchful eyes.

“Did you tell him the truth?”

She stopped abruptly, her pulse picking up speed. “I don’t -- What are you talking about?”

Suddenly he was beside her, gripping her wrist to stop her hands from moving. “How long are you going to keep playing this game? How long are you going to keep doing this to him?”


Taylor gasped, the mug slipping from her fingers, hitting the rug with a thud. Her eyes flew to his and instantly she knew he knew the truth.

“How long have you...?” she whispered.

“Almost from the beginning,” he said dropping her hand. “I wasn’t sure at first because Christian seemed so sure about you but I’ve been modelling since I was sixteen. Dudes who look like chicks, chicks who look like dudes, that’s a regular Sunday afternoon for me. I figured it out pretty quickly.”

She slumped down on her sofa, suddenly feeling weak. “Does anyone—,”

“I don’t know about anyone else,” he said cutting her off. “I haven’t told Christian yet if that’s what you’re asking.”

“If you knew this whole time ... why?” She looked up to meet his dark eyes. This is was the first time she’d ever seen Carson so serious and it freaked her out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it was free entertainment every day. Because I figured you had your reasons. I didn’t think that you would both...” He shook his head.

“Would what?” She jumped on the statement, desperate to know the rest.

He gave her a hard look. “It doesn’t matter.”

She opened her mouth to say that it did, but the look on his face deterred her. Instead, she asked the question that had been on her mind ever since the truth came out, “Now what?

He watched her for a moment, his dark eyes grave. “That’s up to you, Taylor,” he said heading towards the door. “But if you care about Christian like I think you do, you only have one option.”

He glanced back at her as he pulled open the door.“Tell him the truth.”

...

It was an unseasonably cold April day, the kind that seeped into your bones, but Taylor walked up to the Brew House with a heavy step, more afraid of what was sheltering those four walls than the cold.

Through the big glass windows, she could see Harry wiping down a table and Stacey handing a newspaper to a man sitting in one of the leather wingback chairs.

She opened the door, feeling the welcome warmth of the cafe, and stepped inside with trepidation. She let out a pent up breath when she realized that Christian wasn’t inside.

Stacey noticed her first. “Taylor!” She rushed across the room to greet her and give her a hug. “Thank God you’re back! Christian has been an absolute bear! How are you feeling? Are you better? We were all really worried!”

Taylor waited for the bombardment of questions to subside before she answered, “Definitely better. Thanks. I’m going to change, okay?” She didn’t wait for Stacey to answer as she bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

She passed Christian’s office and noticed with relief that it was empty. She wouldn’t have to face him just yet.

“Tell him the truth.”

Carson’s words echoed in her brain and she dashed them away with a shake of her head.

She knew he was right. She knew that time, like a bomb, was ticking away and that every day she avoided telling Christian the truth was another day that she was misleading him and she hated that.

But their relationship was so precarious, how could she tell him the truth now? She needed time to clear the air, to make up for what she’d done so that they could be comfortable around each other again. Only then would she be able to tell him everything.

She just wondered how she was going to find the courage to do it.

After putting away her things and tying the bistro apron around her waist, she slowly headed downstairs.

George was making a drink behind the bar. When she stepped up beside him, he looked at her curiously. “You feeling better?”

“Great,” she said brightly, and then turned to take an order from a customer.

“You sure? You look tired,” he said when the orders had let up a bit. “You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right?”

“Everything’s fine, George. Better than ever.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie. While things with Christian were as bad as they could be, things at home were better than they’d ever been. Her mother’s interview with the agency had gone well and they thought they’d be able to find something for her pretty soon.

It figured that now that her home life was on track, the rest of her life was going off the rails.

“Okay but if you ever need anything...”

“I know.” She smiled at him. “Thanks.” She appreciated George’s concern but her issues with Christian felt too private to share with him.

George left her to talk to one of the regulars while she continued to work. She was halfway through her shift, setting down a cup of coffee at one of the back tables, when Christian walked into the cafe.

His hair was dishevelled from the wind and he hadn’t shaved which made him look extra scruffy. It had been so long since she’d last seen him and she drank up the sight of him like water. He looked so good, even the scowl on his face didn’t deter from how attractive he was, and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his chest.

She bit her lip and looked away, hoping that no one had seen the way her eyes had devoured him. At least Christian hadn’t. He nodded a greeting to Harry, unzipped his leather jacket, and disappeared up the stairs.

She exhaled and moved back to the bar, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before she had to face him. Typically Christian spent fifteen minutes going over things in his office before he came down but it was a good forty-three minutes and twenty two seconds – not that she’d been counting –  before he came back down, looking even more handsome in a light blue oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

He was looking everywhere but at her and she wondered if he was doing it on purpose. He greeted customers he knew, made a comment to George and then she felt it. The moment when his eyes were on her, pinning her in place like an invisible force. She caught his eyes, unable to move under the cold scrutiny.

Then, just like that, he turned away and she could breathe again.

“You.”

She turned to see a customer waving at her from a nearby table. She plastered a stiff smile on her face and walked over to the woman who was drenched in some heavy French perfume that made Taylor want to choke. A little boy sat across from her playing on a tablet.

“Tall hot chocolate, shot of vanilla, no whip,” he ordered without looking up.

What a little brat, she thought, keeping the smile on her face.

“A medium vanilla hot chocolate without whip cream,” she stated, ignoring the Starbucks lingo. She turned to the woman. “And for yourself?”

The woman sniffed and pursed her lips in displeasure. “It’s quite hot in here. I’m practically sweltering.”

Taylor was sure the long fur coat she was wearing had nothing to do with it. “I’ll lower the heat for you,” she said pleasantly.

“Naturally,” the woman retorted snottily. “Now get me a medium cappuccino. Extra foam. 160 degrees. And make it fast.” She snapped her fingers at Taylor.

Taylor took a deep breath before she repeated, “A cappuccino and a hot chocolate coming up.” She gave the awful woman another stiff smile and marched over to the bar.

Christian was putting a customer through and her step stuttered slightly before she continued to the machines.

He didn’t say a word to her as she worked beside him. He didn’t jab her teasingly with his elbow. He didn’t smile at her. It was like she was invisible and it stung. She wished she could get him alone so they could talk but that would require pulling him aside and that was pretty hard to do when he was treating her like air.

George came over to her and asked if she needed any help.

“Uh, do you mind making a vanilla bean hot chocolate without whip cream while I finish up this capp?”

Christian lifted his head from the chocolate cake he was slicing and frowned at George. “He can handle two orders,” he said to George. “There’s a customer over there that needs help.”

George shot Christian a look and opened his mouth to say something but the expression on Christian’s face stopped him. He left to help the customer.

Taylor felt a spark of irritation. Christian had spoken right through her when addressing George. Was he going to be like this all day?

Ride it out, Taylor. Just ride it out.

She took a deep breath and got back to work. She quickly finished the orders and delivered the drinks to the woman and her son.

She was turning away when the woman shrieked, “Are you trying to kill me? I said a hundred and sixty degrees!”

Taylor took two calming breaths before she addressed the woman. “I made sure to check, ma’am. And it was at a hundred and sixty degrees exactly. Would you like me to check again?”

“What I want is for you to do your job properly!” She shoved the cup at Taylor, making some of the liquid slosh over the side and onto Taylor’s hand. Taylor clenched her teeth in pain as the woman snapped, “Make me another at the right temperature this time!”

For a brief moment, Taylor wondered what it would be like to smother the woman with her fur coat before she stiffly walked back to the bar.

“Incompetent idiot,” the woman said nastily from behind her.

She wiped the coffee off her hands, ignoring the stinging and tested the drink again. A hundred and fifty nine degrees. She took a clean cup from the shelf and poured the cappuccino inside, not intending to make a new batch for the horrible woman.

“What are you doing?” Christian barked from behind her.

She jumped in surprise. “I’m pouring—,”

“You’re about to give a customer something she sent back.” He folded his arms in front of him.

Taylor’s mood was darkening by the second. “It’s a perfectly good cappuccino,” she said. “Even if I make another one, she’s just going to find something wrong with it!”

“Do it right the first time and you won’t get any complaints,” he said icily.

He was so unyielding, so cold and unlike him, that part of her wanted to weep.

The other part of her wanted to punch him in the face.

“I always bust my butt and you know it,” she said through gritted teeth. “If you think you can do a better job, why don’t you give it a shot?” She banged the cup down on the counter and stared at him.

Christian’s eyes narrowed. “Stacey,” he barked.

Stacey, who had been making a beeline for the kitchen to avoid the two, winced when she heard his voice. “Yes, boss?” she squeaked.

“The woman at the window wants a medium cappuccino, extra foam, 160 degrees.”

Taylor pulled back in shock. He’d been paying close enough attention to know exactly what was going on and yet he hadn’t stepped in, hadn’t come to her defence at all. She knew that she’d made a mistake but did that one mistake mean that he couldn’t even be civil? Couldn’t even be kind?

“I’m pulling you off barista duty,” he sniped at her. “Go clean the bathrooms!”

She could feel her anger increasing by the second. She glared at him, not moving a muscle.

“You have a problem with that?” he spat out.

“Yeah, I do!”

His face darkened. “In my office. Now.”

He stomped up the stairs and she stomped up after him.

When she walked into the office, he slammed the door behind her before turning to confront her. “When I tell you to do something, you do it,” he said, voice raised. “If you think the customer’s wrong, too bad. Shut up and do your job. Got it?”

Taylor’s jaw clenched. “I did everything she wanted. She was being a bitch and you know it. You should’ve had my back down there!”

“If you didn’t think you could handle it, you should have passed her off to me or George.”

“Pass her off to you?” She laughed bitterly. “You haven’t said a damn thing to me all day. Is this how it’s gonna be? You’re going to pretend I don’t exist until I do something to piss you off?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” He looked at her as if she was gum underneath his shoe. “You think I owe you something because I was nice to you a couple times? I don’t owe you shit.”

Taylor gripped her arms, her nails sinking into her flesh at his words. Had she been fooling herself this whole time by thinking they were getting close? “I- I never—”

“What do you want from me?” he demanded.

“I don’t want anything from you!”

“Bullshit!” he said, his voice rising. “You want something from me that I can’t give.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said shaking her head.

“Don’t you?” he said sarcastically. “You think I don’t know?”

Taylor’s heart stuttered to a halt, her breath coming quickly as she processed his words. He knew. Had Carson told him everything not trusting that she would? Her hands started to shake and she curled them into fists to still them.

“You like me,” he said flatly.

The room went still as she stared at him, reeling from his words, her heart beating so fast and hard that she wondered if he could hear it.

She should have been relieved that he didn’t know her secret, but for some reason this felt even worse. She felt vulnerable, naked, like he could see inside her soul.

Before she could even stutter out a denial, he continued, “It’s never going to happen. So lower your expectations. I’m not interested.”

The words stung and tears started to form in her eyes. She blinked them back quickly, not wanting him to see how much his rejection hurt her.

Who did he think he was telling her to lower her expectations? Like he was some gift to humankind or something. Yeah, she liked him. How could she deny that he was everything she wanted? Smart, funny, handsome. Kind.

Or at least he had been, until her unworthy self had had the audacity to fall for him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, her eyes stony. “You think you’re hot shit because you drive a nice car, and run a shop that you’re daddy gave you? What a joke.”

“I’m a joke?” he said with a hard laugh. “This joke pays your salary so what does that make you?”

“Stupid!” Taylor yelled. “I’m the dumbass who’s been busting my butt trying to pay you back for flashing a check book that someone probably handed you... You think I want to be here? If I didn’t owe you I wouldn’t—,”

“There’s the door!” Christian slashed his hand toward the exit. “If you weren’t so damn pathetic in the first place, I wouldn’t have bothered taking you in.”

She jerked back. “I’m pathetic? At least everything I have I worked for. Mommy and daddy’s money didn’t pay for my car or my house!”

“No, but I did,” he said with a sneer. “Or are you forgetting why you still have a roof over your head?”

“Fuck you,” she said, instinctively raising her hand to throw a punch.

He blocked her easily. She raised her hands to swing at him again, but again it didn’t work.

“Get out,” he said, gripping her arms and shoving her away. “Before I do something I regret.”

She stumbled backwards, breathing hard. “With pleasure,” she said before she slammed out of the room.

...

 

As soon as the door banged shut, Christian slammed his fist against the nearest wall, feeling impotent for the first time in his entire life.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go down. Taylor had been gone for four days and it had bothered him more than he’d cared to admit. Taylor had become the backbone of the cafe and his disappearance had been disconcerting for everyone but especially for him.

He’d been a real pain in the ass all week and he knew it.

Then Taylor had finally shown up, standing nonchalantly at the counter as he always did, acting like everything was the same, like things were back to normal, when they both knew they weren’t.

He hadn’t wanted to deal with any of it so he’d put up a wall, pretended that Taylor was just another worker, that he hadn’t spent four days worrying about him, being angry at him, thinking about him.

But as the day progressed, he’d realized that cool indifference was impossible where Taylor was concerned. He’d physically had to stop himself from throwing out the customer who’d been harassing him. Like he was Taylor’s protector.

It made him want to pick a fight -- fracture Taylor’s irritating composure. Get right underneath his skin, like Taylor was getting underneath his. But fighting hadn’t accomplished anything. He felt even worse than he had before and their friendship was even more messed up than it had been.

He didn’t know how to fix any of it. Especially not now that he’d ridiculed Taylor about liking him.

He still couldn’t believe that he’d ignored the signs. He’d been so wrapped up in his brotherly connection with Taylor that he’d lost sight of the obvious. That Taylor saw him as something more. As a man.

That Taylor was gay.

It should have come as a surprise to him but it didn’t. Probably, in the back of his mind, he’d known it all along. Something about Taylor had never really fit and now he knew why.

And it wasn’t that he cared about that kind of thing, he had plenty of gay friends. He’d just never been tempted by any of them before. Not like...

He grimaced and shook his head. What was he thinking? He hadn’t been tempted. It had been a blip.

So what are you afraid of? Asked a little voice in the back of his mind.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he said aloud as if saying the words would make them true.

Yet somewhere, somewhere deep inside, he was afraid. He was standing on a precipice. One false move and his life would change forever.

 

Thirteen by Village

 

13

 

Taylor walked up to the cafe, her folded uniform tucked underneath her arm. She’d left in such a huff the day before that she’d forgotten to drop it off.

Or say goodbye.

It hurt just thinking about it. The Brew House had become her home; a welcome respite from the more stressful parts of her life. She didn’t want to go but she had little choice in the matter now.

As she stepped inside, she was surprised by the flurry of movement in the cafe. Carson was throwing on his coat, while Stacey and Isabel stood at the bar looking miserable. George was on the phone, nodding and speaking quietly to whoever was on the other line.

Something was clearly wrong.

Taylor’s eyes flew around the room, her pulse picking up speed when she realized that Christian wasn’t there.

Her uniform fell to the ground as she ran to Carson, tugging at his sleeve. “What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice filling with panic. “Where’s Christian?”

He looked down at her, his eyes grave. “He’s at the hospital.”

Her heart stopped. “No,” she whispered. “What happened? Is he okay?” 

Carson reached out and squeezed her arm. “He’s fine, Taylor. It’s his grandmother. She had another heart attack.”        

She shut her eyes tight and exhaled, relieved beyond words that Christian was fine. Then she processed the rest. Christian’s grandmother had suffered another heart attack. Her eyes flew open.

“Look, I gotta go. I’m headed to the hospital,” Carson said, already moving towards the door.

“Take me with you,” she said, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Please.”

He looked back at her, catching the expression on her face, and nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

...

Christian sat hunched over in the hall in the front of his grandmother’s room. His parents were back at the house, packing some of her things, while he stayed back and waited for news.

He hadn’t been around the first time she’d collapsed, he’d been too busy gallivanting through Europe, and the guilt was killing him now. Two heart attacks. Two more than she should have had to experience in her lifetime.

Maybe if he’d been around she wouldn’t have had to push herself so hard, wouldn’t have to work so much. Why hadn’t he come home sooner?

He leaned back in his seat and exhaled softly.

Alana rubbed his shoulder. He looked over and gave her a lopsided smile.

“It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “I know it will.”

He nodded and looked away. The words provided little comfort to his worried mind. When someone his grandmother’s age suffered two heart attacks in such a short span of time, it was hard to believe that everything would be fine.

“I didn’t know Taylor was coming,” Alana said from beside him.

His head swung around to see Carson and Taylor walking down the hallway towards them and something inside him softened at the sight of Taylor’s worried face.

He stood up as Carson stepped in front of him. “How’s she doing?” Carson asked, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

He tossed up a shoulder. “The doctors say she’s lucky. It was minor compared to the last one but she’ll still need surgery.”

“Sorry, man.”

He nodded. “Thanks for coming.” He glanced over at Taylor who was standing back watching them. “Both of you,” he said and Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise.

Carson leaned down and whispered something to Alana and she jumped up from her seat. “How about I get us some coffee? Carson, come with!”

“Subtle,” Carson muttered as she took his arm and dragged him down the hall.

Christian watched them go before looking back at Taylor, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. He just stood there, awkwardly staring at a point just above his shoulder, as if he didn’t know what to do or say.

And it was Christian’s fault.

He’d made things like this. Made it uncomfortable between them over something that now, with his sick grandmother lying in a hospital bed, seemed so trivial.

He just wanted things back the way they were.

“Taylor Mooreland at a loss for words,” he said as he sat back down. “This is a first.”

He heard Taylor exhale before he stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily against the hospital floor. Christian saw him hesitate before he sat one seat over, leaving an empty chair between them.

“You look terrible,” Taylor said, surprising a laugh out of him.

“Thank you,” he said drily, glancing over at him.

“No!” Taylor groaned. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry – crap!” He shook his head and stood up. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. I should probably go.”

“Taylor,” Christian said stopping him. Taylor turned slightly towards him.

“After last night, getting the call about her...” He paused, trying to find the words. “Sometimes things happen that give you perspective. I made a mistake with you. I said some things I regret—,”

“Me too,” Taylor interrupted, slumping into the seat next to him. “I’m sorry about everything. I don’t want to fight with you. I just want us to be good again.”

The heaviness that had been weighing down his heart all week suddenly eased from his chest.

“I’m good if you’re good,” he said.

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

Christian caught Taylor’s eyes and suddenly they were laughing.

He paused, watching the way Taylor’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, the light almost sweet sound of that laugh hitting him straight in the heart. It felt good to hear that laugh again. It felt like it had been too long since he’d last heard it.

“Now that we’ve established that we’re both good,” Taylor said after their laughter had died down, “I just want to say again that I’m really sorry about your grandma.”

“I appreciate that,” he said leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes, weariness taking over once more.

“Have you been here all day?”

“All night,” he corrected, opening his eyes. “I figure I owe it to her to be here. When she got sick the first time, I wasn’t around. I came home as she was recovering.  I promised myself that I’d do everything in my power to make sure she didn’t end up back here. And here she is again.” He shook his head. “I failed her.”

“You didn’t!”

Christian glanced over at Taylor, taken aback by the fierceness in his voice.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve done more—,”

“Shut up. How much more could you have done? This is your problem, Laurent,” Taylor said with exasperation. “You have this God complex. Some things are just beyond our control and this is one of them. I know you feel bad that you weren’t around the first time but you’re here now. Feeling guilty isn’t going to help her recover. What she needs is your strength and your love. That’s how she’ll get better. Okay?”

Christian started at Taylor, feeling like a kindergartener being admonished by his teacher.  “I can always count on you to hit me with the truth when I need it most, huh, Mooreland?” he said with a soft smile.

Something dark flashed in Taylor’s eyes but just as quickly it was gone and Christian wondered if he’d just imagined it.

“Well somebody’s gotta do it,” Taylor quipped.

“Nobody’s gotta do it,” Christian shot back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. If I don’t put you in your place every once in a while your ego will be out of control.”

He tilted his head to look at Taylor searchingly. “You think I have a God complex?”

“I think you like to sweep into people’s lives and try to fix everything,” he said quietly.

Christian opened his mouth to disagree. He had very little interest in fixing other people’s lives. He never had. Other than Carson, Alana, his family, the only other person that he’d ever stuck his neck out for was ...  He glanced over and met Taylor’s eyes.

“I only help people who matter to me,” he said finally. He looked away so quickly that he missed the way Taylor’s eyes widened at his words.

Taylor didn’t respond and a tentative silence stretched between them as if they were both unsure of what to say next. Then Christian’s stomach rumbled.

Taylor chuckled beside him and he shot him a sheepish look.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Taylor asked.

He shrugged. “Last night. I think. I don’t know.”

Taylor shook his head and stood up. “We should fix that.”

He shook his head. “I can’t leave—,”

“Your grandma would want you to take care of yourself. Carson and Alana can wait here while you get something to eat.”

He hesitated but Taylor grabbed his arm, pulling him to stand. “I won’t take no for answer,” he said.

Christian looked down into his deep brown eyes and couldn’t find the words to say no. “Alright.”

Taylor smiled. “Let’s go.”

...

“When you said you were treating me to a meal, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Christian said drily, putting mustard on his Italian sausage.

“Shut up and eat,” Taylor said as she paid for their hot dogs and fries.

It was an unexpectedly warm spring day and they took their hotdogs to the park down the street. Sitting down on a bench, they munched contentedly on their food and watched a man throw a Frisbee around to his dog.

It was nice sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder, the sun setting over the trees, the sky painted red and orange. Taylor almost wished they could stay like this forever. Or at least long enough to get those little frown lines between Christian’s brows to disappear.

She knew he wanted to be there for his grandmother but he needed a break from the 24/7 anxiety and she wanted to give him that.

After quickly demolishing his fries and half of Taylor’s, Christian slid back on the bench and closed his eyes. His hair fluttered in the breeze and she bit her lip. She wanted to reach out and touch him, run her hands through his hair, outline that perfectly straight nose with her fingers, but only disaster lay that way.

Not if you tell him.

Things were better than they’d been between them in weeks but she still hesitated. With his grandmother collapsing, Christian couldn’t handle any more surprises. She would tell him. Soon. Just not today.

He opened his eyes, catching her staring at him. They both looked away quickly.

Ignoring the awkward moment, she pointed to a batting cage across the park. “Dessert’s on whoever can hit the most balls.”

Christian jumped to his feet. “You’re on.”

It didn’t take long for Taylor to realize that she was going to lose the bet. Christian moved with the ease of an athlete. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up at the elbows and Taylor’s breath hitched at the sight of the thin fabric stretched tautly over his back.

When he was done, he looked back at her with an arrogant grin. “Let’s see what you got,” he said, passing the bat to her.

It probably wasn't the best time to tell him that the last time she’d played baseball was in the fifth grade.

She made a show out of it, lifting the bat over her head and stretching her body upwards, swinging the bat a few times, before signaling for him to start the machine.

The ball came whizzing by and she delayed a second too long and whiffed on it.

A snort came from behind her but she ignored it, willing herself to hit the next ball. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be and the next four attempts were just as pathetic as the first.

“You suck,” Christian said plainly, stating the obvious.

She flipped her middle finger at him.

“I knew I was going to win,” he said matter-of-factly, stopping the machine. “I just didn’t think it would be a total slaughter.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“You will be if you keep hitting like that.” He came around to stand in front of her. “Spread your legs,” he said and Taylor blinked at the wording. She looked straight at him but he was too busy taking the bat from her hands to notice. 

“Hold the bat like this,” he said demonstrating the position. She mimicked him but he shook his head. “No.” He reached for her arm, his hand a gentle slide as he lifted it into position. “Like this.”

She nodded her throat suddenly dry. He came up behind her. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her ear and it sent a tingle down her spine.

He eased her knee forward with his knee. “Better,” he said softly. She could barely breathe with him standing so close, with his voice in her ear. And it took everything in her power not to sway back and lean into him.

Abruptly he stepped back. “Good,” he said gruffly, handing the bat back to her. “When the next ball comes out, keep your eye on it. Track it as it’s coming.”

She took a deep breath, hoping the fresh air would clear her head, and nodded.

He moved back to the machine. “Let’s try this again but this time try not to hit like my mom.”

Taylor pulled a face but turned away to hide a smile. Christian was teasing her again and it made her feel like things were finally back to normal. And she realized that it was enough for her. Despite her attraction to him, being like this, being his friend, was enough. As long as she could be in his life, she didn’t need anything else.

As a man? A voice whispered in her head but she ignored it. There would be time to think about that later. But not now. Not when things were back on track.

The ball came towards her and she followed it carefully with her eyes. Holding the bat the way Christian had told her, she swung with great aplomb and missed quite spectacularly.

“Holy shit, man. You suck,” Christian said from behind her and this time she laughed aloud.

“Come back to work,” he said suddenly.

Her head swung to look at him.

“I want you to come back,” he said with deceptive casualness.

“I want a raise,” she said.

“Not on your life.”

Her mouth stretched into a broad grin. Everything was finally falling back into place.

...

Taylor had somehow talked him into going for a drive. He hadn’t wanted to at first, but when he’d checked back in at the hospital, his parents had been waiting for him and told him to go home for the night.

Taylor wouldn’t let him. “Come on, Laurent. The night is still young.”

There were many reasons why he should have just called it a night but the hopeful look in Taylor’s eyes had been too hard to dismiss. Why make things awkward between them when things were finally good again?

And so they drove, top down, wind on their faces. Christian inhaled and let out a contended sigh. Taylor was right. It was too nice of a night to be indoors.

They passed through the Garden, one of the trendier neighbourhoods in the center of town. The spectacle of music, and people filled their ears and eyes. Then through the west side where the river curved long and wide, leaving the crowds behind them.

They ended up there, walking down a long stretch of beach, no bright lights, or people to fill the quiet – the spring night still chilly enough to keep away the crowds.

Christian glanced at Taylor, who’d stopped to skip rocks across the water, and was struck by the grace of his movements.

“How’s your mom?” he asked, trying to take his mind off the weird tension wrapping itself around his body.

Taylor turned the pebbles in his hand. It was dark but Christian could see the way his face lit up at the subject. He knew the answer before Taylor recounted what had happened with his mother.

“Things are really good,” he said with a smile. “How ‘bout you? Are things better with your dad?”

Christian shrugged and started walking slowly up the beach. “We’re at a ceasefire,” he said as Taylor stepped up beside him. “With the cafe stabilizing and my grandmother being sick, he has no choice to be lay off for a while.”

“That’s better than nothing I guess.”

“It’s preferable to the usual, believe me,” he said.

They walked in silence for a while. The sound of the water, the rustling of trees, created a sense of intimacy that Christian couldn’t shake.

“What are you going to do after all this?” Taylor asked.

“With what? The cafe?”

Taylor nodded. “Do you still want to go into the family business?”

“I know it’s what my grandmother wants.”

Taylor glanced at him. “But what do you want?”

His eyes met Taylor’s. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” he said, no longer sure if he was just talking about the company. “I’ll figure it out when the three months are up.”

Taylor rubbed the back of his neck, nodding as he looked away, and for the first time Christian noticed that his hair had grown. It softened Taylor’s face, the way it curled slightly, and the moonlight did the rest, making the planes of his face look delicate almost... Christian stared at his profile arrested, almost like a woman’s face.

He could fill the tension in his neck now, his pulse starting to hammer. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t. They’d stopped walking, Taylor was staring out unseeingly into the watery distance ahead, and it took every ounce of will he had not to reach out and touch the curve of his jaw.

Taylor looked over at him, catching him staring. “Something on my face?” he asked, lifting a tentative hand to his jaw.

“What are we?” Christian blurted out, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

A look of apprehension entered Taylor’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head and began to walk forward again.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Taylor said after a moment.

He turned his head to see Taylor still standing in the same place, staring at him. “Are we friends? Or is this just pity?”

Christian suddenly remembered the words he’d shouted in anger.If you weren’t so damn pathetic in the first place, I wouldn’t have bothered taking you in.”

“That stuff about pitying you or not owing you anything ... I was being a dick. That’s not how I feel.”

“How do you? Feel that is,” Taylor asked softly, slowly moving towards him, their eyes locked.

It was the last question he wanted to answer. He ran a hand through his hair, his body buzzing in a way that both agitated him and made him feel alive.

“What are you my shrink?” he asked sarcastically, trying to get things back on normal ground.

It seemed to work. Taylor stared at him for a moment and then grinned. “No thanks. Being your friend is hard enough with all that extra baggage.”

Christian rolled his eyes mockingly relieved to get things back on track. He punched Taylor lightly on the arm amazed as always by how small it felt.

“I really need to take you to the gym. Your arms are pitiful, man.”

“Yet I can still take you down.” Before Christian could react, Taylor swept his leg beneath him and he went tumbling backwards.

Christian growled about to get him back but Taylor flopped down beside him with a laugh.

“I’m glad we’re friends again,” he said with a smile, seemingly unashamed that the words made him sound like a five year old. He lay back on the sand, looked over at him, and patted the sand beside him.

Christian hesitated for a moment before easing back on the sand.

They stayed like that for a while, their eyes heavenward, the sound of the water in their ears. It was soothing and Christian wasn’t surprised when he looked over and saw that Taylor had fallen asleep.

He propped up on his elbow and stared at Taylor’s face, a face he was growing increasingly fond of by the day. With a will of their own, his eyes drifted to Taylor’s mouth. A mouth that had always looked incongruous on a boy’s face but now seemed just right.

He closed his eyes briefly at the sight. He was in trouble, he knew that clearly, and yet ... He opened his eyes and continued to look his fill. Taylor was starting to look like a woman to him, even dressed as he was in a light jacket, long checkered shirt, and jeans. Was it a figment of his imagination or was this a product of this thing, this feeling, this whatever he was developing for his friend?

“What am I going to do about you?” he asked softly and as if hearing him in his sleep, Taylor turned, rolling his body away from him.

Why did he feel like he couldn’t bear the distance?

He reached out before he even realized what he was doing. His hand skimmed lightly over Taylor’s hair, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the feel of it, by how different it was to his own. He moved closer, a mere sliver between his chest and Taylor’s back, and got a whiff of something soft and gentle, something that was purely Taylor.

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as a fresh bolt of desire surged through him. He wanted to taste it, that scent. Put his mouth on that sweet smelling skin to see if it tasted as good as it smelled.

He pulled away with a soft groan and slumped back down against the sand, trying to get a hold of himself.

Taylor twitched and turned again, facing him now, arm outstretched. He glanced at it, the desire to hold that hand overpowering. Just once, something whispered inside him and he didn’t have the strength to deny it.

He slid his palm over Taylor’s, his stomach clenching as finger met finger in a soft caress. Desperation and need coursed through him, haunted him, but he didn’t let go. Slowly, agonizingly, he slid his fingers between Taylor’s and his breath caught when it curled into his.

He stayed like that for a while, watching Taylor sleep, their hands clasped in the space between their bodies. The tenderness of it destroyed him. But he didn’t let go of that hand. He didn’t let go.

...

Taylor kept one eye on the door as she waited for Christian to show up to work the next day. She wanted to ask him about his grandmother, see if he wanted to hang out after work, just look at his face really.

The thought of him sent and excited quiver through her body. After spending all night at the beach with him, she felt even closer to him than before. 

She was joking around with Harry when he entered the cafe, his face blank and drawn. He noticed her instantly and something flashed in his eyes when he looked at Harry's hand casually draped around her shoulder.

Instantly she wanted to shake it off but she suppressed the feeling. Instead she casually moved away to pour a cup of coffee. She eased around the corner with a smile. “Morning!” she said, raising the cup to him.

Ignoring the mug, he gave her a brisk nod and moved around her to greet Carson.

“Did you get home late last night?” she asked, following him to the counter, worried by the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“No,” he said, abruptly turning away to head upstairs.

Taylor watched him uncertainly, hoping his attitude was just temporary. Maybe he was tired or worried about his grandmother and he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

For the next hour she worked, watching him move around the cafe as he often did. But something was wrong. There was brittleness to his smile, an artificialness to his joking manner, but worst of all he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

He went up to his office and she followed him, not caring that it wasn’t her break. She needed to know what had happened between last night and today that had made him re-erect the wall between them.

“What is it?” he asked when he saw her behind him.

“Are we good?” she asked without preamble.

Christian looked weary, tired lines around his eyes. “Jesus, Mooreland. Is this going to be a weekly thing?

Taylor swallowed. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. He looked so tired that she wondered if she’d made a mistake approaching him about this.

He re-opened his eyes and looked straight at her, his blue eyes darker than usual. “Let’s stop.”

She frowned at him not knowing what he meant. “Stop...”

“This.” He motioned to the two of them. “I’ll forgive the debt. You don’t have to come back to work.”

That shocked her into silence. Last night everything had been perfect. They’d been laughing, talking again. Now he wanted her gone?

“What happened? Things were good yester—,”

“How far did you think this could go?” he demanded. “Or...” He looked at her sharply. “Did you think if you hung around long enough, I’d fall for you?” He rounded his desk and grabbed her arm. “Did you think that a walk on the beach was all it would take?”

“You can’t keep doing this,” she said in frustration. “You can’t keep jerking me around every time you change your mind.”

“Do you think this is easy for me?” He dragged her closer, still holding her arm. “Do you think I want to feel this way?”

Her eyes widened at the declaration. It was like the night before, when he’d told her that he only helped people who mattered to him. She mattered to him.

And he wanted her to go.

She looked up at him, ready to fight, but the look on his face took her breath away. There was anger there but something even darker. Something completely wild.

Her eyes fell unconsciously to his mouth and it tightened underneath her gaze.

“I want you out.”

Her eyes veered back to his, snagging and holding them, spellbound. They stared at each other, caught by some invisible line, his hand reaching to cup the back of her neck.

“Go.”

She vaguely heard his words but didn’t process them. She was too overwhelmed by the hand at the back of her neck, large and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed at the soft caress of his fingers against her neck and she wondered vaguely if he knew what he was doing.

She slid a tongue over suddenly dry lips and heard him make a guttural sound in the back of his throat. Her eyes flew open, her breath hitching as she caught him staring intensely at her mouth.

“Don’t,” he said in a dark voice, pulling her towards him by the nape of her neck. “Don’t.”

He was so close, too close. It was doing things to her. Making her want things she shouldn’t. She tried to stumble back out of self-preservation but he moved his other arm around her waist and held her still.

She looked up at him, whispered, “What are you—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish because suddenly his lips were there, hot and searing.

The shock of it almost incapacitated her, almost brought her to her knees. Then all she could do was feel his mouth, that beautiful mouth sliding caressingly against her own.

It was devastating, the hot, slow glide of his lips. It made her knees wobble, made her grip his shirt like a life preserver, bunching it tightly into her fist. She dragged it upwards, her hand accidentally coming into contact with the smooth heat of his skin and he groaned, low and deep. A trill of satisfaction shot through her at the sound. Yes. Something inside her whispered. This.

He slanted his mouth over hers, took her lips like he owned them, tasted her until she was quivering. The desire to have him, to sink into him, was overwhelming. He nudged her backwards until her legs hit the back of his desk, pressed his body into hers. It was the most delicious thing that she'd ever experienced in her life.

“Oh my God!”

Somewhere in the periphery of her desire, she heard the loud shriek in the distance.

...

Christian blinked a few times, tried to pull himself out of his haze, to dampen the throbbing need that still pulsated through him.

Taylor stumbled back, his chest rising harshly as he struggled to regain his breath and Christian felt a sick sort of satisfaction at the sight of him trying to regain control.

He was fucked. So fucked.

“You—you guys...”

He turned his head to look at Isabel, who was standing with her hand pressed against her heart, staring at them with shocked eyes. “Oh ... my ... god...” She took a step back and then another until she was out the door and out of the room.

Everyone would know what had happened in minutes.

“We should stop her!” Taylor made to move past him, but Christian grabbed his arm before he could leave the room.

“We’re not done here.”

“But Isabel—”

“Fuck Isabel!”

They stared at each other, both surprised at his outburst. He turned away to walk to the door and close it. He’d been running away from this moment for months, this inevitable moment, and he was tired of it.

“You were right,” he said breaking the silence. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Taylor bit his lip and Christian couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. He’d kissed Taylor. He'd kissed another man. Just a minute ago, those velvety soft lips had been on his and the most fucked up thing about it was he wanted to do it again. It should have felt strange, having a man in his arms, but it hadn't. It had felt deeply right.

He could no longer fight it. No longer pretend that he didn’t feel what he felt. After spending a full night watching Taylor sleep, feeling the warmth of his hand in his, after that kiss, it was impossible to deny that he was far gone. That he got jealous when he saw Taylor talking to other guys, that just the sight of Harry’s hand on his shoulder had made him seethe.

This wasn’t going to disappear. Not even if Taylor went away, he knew that. So maybe he needed to stop running. Maybe he needed to ignore his head, the head that kept telling him that he’d never signed up for this. That his family would never understand – that this would be the final nail in the coffin in his relationship with his father. Maybe he needed to stop denying what he wanted.

He remembered Taylor on that first day, wearing that baggy jacket, looking sick and miserable, acting like the mouse he wasn’t, and he felt that tender pull in his heart.

He remembered the first night, when Taylor had pretended to be his lover to get rid of his date. It seemed years ago now. The irrational anger he’d felt when Taylor had turned down his dinner offer, should have warned him then that he was in over his head but it was too late now.

“I don’t know what to do about this ... " He exhaled slowly. "This thing that’s happening between us but I can’t keep ignoring it.”

“Christian,” Taylor said softly.

“Let me finish because I’m only going to say this once.” He could hear the thundering of his heart in his ears, felt his throat get tight. "I like you."

He saw Taylor inhale sharply, saw him swallow hard and for some reason seeing those nervous ticks gave him the courage to keep going.

“I thought it would pass, but it hasn’t. You’re in my head. You’re,” he banged his hand against his heart, “here. I don’t know how far this thing can go but I know that I can't let you leave. I can’t let you walk away and never see you again. So, I'm willing to take a shot. If it’s with you, I’m willing.”

Taylor didn’t speak at first. He just stared at him, eyes filling with tears.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

What?

He was stunned by how devastated he was by the words.

“I never thought you’d—I swear, Christian,” Taylor’s voice broke, the pitch of his voice rising with every word. "I swear I never meant for this to happen."

“What are you talking about Taylor?” Christian reached for him, wanting to comfort him, trying to understand, but Taylor pulled away, clutching himself. It made something cold and oily settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What is it?” he asked desperately.

Taylor shook his head, his eyes dark and miserable. “I can’t – I can’t be here right now.”  

“You don’t want to be with me?” He didn’t know what was happening. Didn't know how things had gotten so bad, so fast. But apparently he'd made a fatal mistake. He'd put himself on the line without questioning whether Taylor wanted him back.

“I...” Taylor took a shuddering breath. “Please, just give me time to think.”

He heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, heard the door swing open. Then Carson was in the room, his face tight, his eyes hard and cold.

Something like fear crossed Taylor’s face and despite his anger, the desire to protect him rushed over him. “Carson, get out.”

Carson ignored him, stomping over to grab Taylor’s arm. “Did you tell him? Did you?”

“Carson, please,” Taylor whispered.

“I gave you time to tell him the truth,” he said, shaking Taylor. “Not to twist him up even more.”

"What are you talking about?" Christian demanded.

Taylor avoided his eyes and stared up at Carson. "Can we please talk about this outside?"

"No. This has dragged on long enough."

"It definitely has," Christian said as he yanked Carson away from Taylor. He stepped in front of Carson. “What the hell is going on?”

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Carson looked at him, his expression bleak. “Isabel’s running her mouth down there. I can’t let this go on."

“Carson,” Taylor pleaded.

Carson ignored Taylor’s pleas. Instead he opened his mouth and said something so inexplicable, so insane, that Christian’s mind instantly rejected it.

“There's no other way to say this, so I'll just say it directly. Taylor ... Taylor's a girl.”

He would have laughed if he hadn’t seen the anguish and guilt on Taylor’s face. He would have laughed if the ground hadn't just shifted beneath him.

 

Fourteen by Village

 

 

 

14

 

She’d imagined this moment many times. Imagined how he would look, the anger, the betrayal. But the one thing she couldn’t have imagined was the nauseating churning of her stomach. That burning feeling of shame.

“What is he talking about?” Christian demanded.

She opened her mouth, willing herself to speak but nothing came out. Feeling the thrum of panic, her eyes fell to the door. She wanted to run but she couldn’t move. The regret weighed down her body, it was paralyzing.

She felt the heat of his eyes on her face, searing, intense.

“Taylor,” he said and she shook her head, eyes still lowered.

“Look at me,” he said desperately when she wouldn’t raise her head. “Look at me, damn it!”

She pressed her lips together to stop the trembling, blinked back tears that were threatening to fall then raised her head slowly and met his eyes.

They were a tumultuous blue, cloudy with anger, confusion, and disbelief.

“Are you a woman?”

Strange how those words caused her pain. How they made the tears, she’d tried to stop, fall unchecked down her face.

“Are you?” he asked in such a deathly calm voice that it made her shudder. She would have preferred to see him rant and rave instead of this ... stillness.

He took a step towards and she almost cringed when he reached out to grab her arm. “Are you?”

 

Christian felt as if he was standing on the edge of a building looking down at the world below. That sick, dizzy feeling of vertigo. 

He watched Taylor’s head move into a very slow, short nod and he felt it instantly - the cold, hard stab of betrayal. 

No – no. There had to be some mistake.

“Taylor,” he said quickly, willing Taylor to raise his head and tell him that this was all wrong because he was finding it hard to breathe. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

But Taylor wouldn’t respond. He just kept his head down in that silent assent of guilt.

“No,” he said softly, his hand spasming against Taylor’s arm, grasping it hard without meaning to.  

“I’m sorry,” Taylor whispered and the words hit him harder than any punch could have.

He staggered back in shock, blindly stumbling to the door before he could collapse under the weight of that feeling of betrayal.

He felt Carson’s hand on his shoulder and in a moment of clarity, he realized something equally damning. 

Whipping around, he grabbed Carson by the collar. “How long did you know?” he spat, his voice thick with venom.

Carson looked away. “A few weeks,” he said quickly, bluntly.

“You son of a bitch.”

Christian hit him hard. Sent him tumbling to the ground, blood dripping from his nose. Then without looking back, he slammed out of the room.

... 

Taylor left the cafe in a daze.

As soon as she walked into her house, the tears came. She’d held them in check through the entire ride home but as soon as she made it into her room, her body completely shut down.  

Despite the disastrous events that had followed it, Taylor couldn’t stop think about Christian’s confession, about how his lips had felt on hers.

It had been beyond anything she could have imagined. And it had shocked the sense back into her.

She had been such an idiot.

She’d been so afraid to lose him, so afraid that he’d hate her, that she’d never stopped to think that her lie was breaking him down bit by bit. That he was struggling just as much as she was.

It was why she’d said no after he’d confessed when all she wanted to do was say yes ten times over. It was why she’d tried desperately to escape. Because after he’d made that kind of confession how could she look him in the eyes and tell him that everything he thought he knew was a lie?

Christian’s face flashed in her mind and a fresh batch of tears formed in her eyes.

She regretted it so much. Wished she could turn back the clock and tell him the truth before things had gone so horribly wrong. If only she’d trusted him a bit more. If only she’d believed that he’d understand. Now it was too late.

She stayed there for a while, staring blindly across the room, tears falling unchecked down her face until the room grew dark.

And then she couldn’t take it anymore. Christian deserved to hear it from her mouth. He might never forgive her but maybe she could make him understand.

She grabbed her keys and left to find him.

...

He leaned against the elevator wall exhausted.

He’d been driving around for what felt like hours playing back the last few months of his life, every conversation, every hint that Taylor wasn’t who he – she said she was. He wondered how a pair of soft brown eyes had fooled for him so long.

Even now, he could barely believe it - found it hard to think of Taylor as a she. How could someone he knew so well, lie to him about something that important?

He knew so well? The irony of it made him laugh, although the sharp, bitter sound that came out of his mouth could hardly constitute as laughter. 

The elevator bell rang and he stepped through the doors.

His feet slowed when he saw a familiar dark head swing around to look at him. Rage flared up inside him and he fought hard to tamper it down.

He continued to his door, ignoring Taylor who had stepped in front of the door and was watching him with trepidation.

It pissed him off that Taylor was afraid. That he-she thought that Christian would hurt hi—her. But that was the point of the entire pretense wasn’t it? The fact that Taylor didn’t trust him.

Taylor was blocking his way and he almost lifted a hand to push her aside but he thought better of it. If he laid one hand on her, God knows what he would do.

Maybe she was right to be afraid after all.

“Move,” he said.

“Please,” she said, hesitantly reaching for his arm before letting it drop. “Just a few minutes. That’s all I ask."

He looked down at her, his gaze sweeping over her face to take stock of what he had missed for so long.

She wasn’t beautiful. Not lush or ultra feminine like the girls he’d always fallen for in the past. She was angles and structure, and yet those lines were undeniably graceful, and that mouth ... Even now, despite his disgust and anger, he wanted nothing more than to kiss that mouth again.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and waited for her to speak.

 

Taylor kept her eyes on Christian’s chest and tried not to flinch beneath his careful scrutiny of her face. 

She wished he was furious, that at the very least he would yell at her. That would have been better than feeling those silent, veiled eyes watching and judging her.

He hadn’t made another move to go inside. He was giving her an opportunity to explain so she took it.

“I ... I never set out to fool you,” she said softly. “When you’d mistaken me for a guy, it just seemed ... easier. Things were really bad at home and I had no way of paying the damages. So when you offered to let me work it off, it was sort of a godsend.” Her voice wavered slightly, “I didn’t want you to change your mind because I was a girl. I figured it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. That it wouldn’t hurt anybody if you didn’t know the truth but...”

She felt the tears come again. Felt the pain of knowing that she’d done this all wrong. That she’d set themselves up for this moment, for this hurt, without even realizing it. “But somewhere along the way we started to be friends and the cafe started to feel like home. And I got scared because I didn’t want to lose my friend. I didn’t want to be unwelcomed. I was scared that you’d hate me if you knew. I didn’t want you to hate me. I—,”

Two hands grabbed her, stopping her abruptly. Her eyes flew up, clashing with blazing blue ones.

“Tell me,” he demanded his eyes like liquid fire, “how long were you going to keep it up? How long were you going to look me in the eyes and lie to me?”

“I-I-,” she struggled to answer because she didn’t know. She honestly didn’t know.

“While you were playing victim, holding out on me because you didn’t want me to hate you,” he said the last words jeeringly, “I was in hell.”

“Christian,” she said, tears now streaming down her face.

“You know what the joke is?” he said, laughing bitterly, eyes shimmering. “You never thought about me at all. Every part of me was filled with you and you never gave a shit about me. I told you I wanted to be with you, Taye. I kissed you. Do you know what that meant?” He let her go, hands shaking.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said gulping back sobs. “I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“But you didn’t!” he lashed out. “You made be believe that I...Do you even know what I was going to throw away?”

She pressed her lips together, watching him with blurry eyes.

“I was willing to risk everything to be with you, yet you didn’t want to risk a damn thing for me!”

Her head lowered in shame. He was right. She’d wanted it all. His friendship, his love, his world, while giving him only half of herself.  She’d let him take on the burden of her lie without acknowledging that it was a burden.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing that it wasn’t enough. “I’m so sorry, Christian.”

“Me too,” he said, his eyes shifting past her to stare at the door.

With a heavy heart, she moved aside so he could unlock it. She watched him walk inside, watched the door close and for the longest time stared at the vacant spot he had left.

...

Taylor showed up to work the next day with dark shadows under her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Carson asked coolly when she stepped up behind the bar. 

“Working,” she said quietly, preparing the machines.

She knew how it looked, showing up after what had transpired the day before but she’d resolved not to run away this time. She wouldn’t buckle under the condemnation or reproving stares. This time she wouldn’t hide herself from Christian.

She’d left too many things unsaid. She hadn’t even told him how much she cared for him. That she had fallen for him along the way. He needed to know how she felt.

Most of the staff gave her a wide berth. Even Isabel stuck to glaring at her across the room rather than speak to her. She was hurt but she understood that they didn’t know how to treat her. She hadn’t changed, she was still Taylor, but it would take some time for them to get used to her as a woman. 

The only person truly in her corner was George. He took her aside to ask if her if she was all right when the morning rush was over.

“I wish I had listened to you,” she said when they were both standing outside in the courtyard. “I wish I had just told him the truth from the beginning.”

George put a hand around her shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. “We all make mistakes,” he said. “It’s life’s way of showing us that nothing’s easy.”

“I’ve been watching Christian these last couple of months and he’s changed a lot. He’s become a better man and I think that has a lot to do with you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

His eyes drifted past her. “I do. He may not realize it now but one day he’ll come to see how important you are in his life.” 

“I hurt him a lot, George,” she said, voice catching.

“You’re hurting too.” He gave her shoulder another squeeze.

Her eyes welled up at the words. No one understood how hard it had been for her, how much pain she was feeling now. It was times like these when she wished she had girl friends, confidants, someone she could lean on. Christian had become that person for her but she couldn’t turn to him anymore.

The crunch of footsteps against gravel made her turn. Christian walked past them and entered the cafe.

Her heart thundered against her chest as she watched his back disappear behind the door. She looked back at George.

“Get back to work,” he said with a gentle smile.

She nodded and went back inside.

Christian was waiting for her by the stairs, his eyes heavy and shadowed. “Come see me in my office,” he said before making his way upstairs.

When they were both standing in his office, door closed, he reached in his desk drawer and pushed an envelope towards her.

“I want to thank you for all the work you’ve done during these last few months but your services will no longer be required.”

She deflated at the words. If she left the cafe now, she knew she’d never see him again. The thought of it was unbearable.

Funny how he’d asked her to leave twice before in this very same room and yet this was the first time she really felt the impact.

“Third time’s the charm, huh?” she said softly.

He stared at her blankly and she trembled, feeling the distance of that gaze.

“I like you.” The shaky words stumbled out before she could stop them. “I like you so much and I don’t know what to do. I regret ... everything. Not trusting you, not trusting the person I’ve grown to know. Not believing in you enough to tell you the truth.”

He looked away, his mouth tightening.

“Christian, I just ...” The tears were coming back again and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Just one chance. Give me one more chance. I don’t want to lose you.” She brought shaking hands to her mouth. They were pressed together in supplication. “Please.”

“I want to forgive you, Taylor...” He closed his eyes briefly before looking back at her. The pain she saw in his eyes was like a shot through the heart. “But every time I look at you, I see the lie. The person in front of me, I don’t know who you are.”

“I’m the same as before.”

“You’re not!” he said in a hard voice. “That kid – that kid trusted me, believed in me and I believed in him. I don’t believe in you.”

She shuddered, grief overtaking her. “Please, Christian.”

His voice softened as he looked at her, the misery in his eyes reflecting her own. “I have to let you go, Taylor.” The double meaning wasn’t lost on her. “Pack up your things and go home.”

And then he left her, standing in the middle of his office, with nothing but a white envelope and her regrets.

 

 

End Notes:

I really suck at this updating in a timely fashion business. But believe it or not, the end is finally, finally near. Really. Seriously.

Thanks as always for reading. You guys are patient beyond words.

Fifteen by Village

 

15

 

“I’m not coming to LGI,” Christian addressed his family as they were finishing their Sunday night meal.

His grandmother and mother looked at him with mirrored expressions of surprise. His father watched him expressionlessly. 

“But Christian, why?” his mother asked. “You’ve done well with the cafe. We all think you’re more than ready to join the company.”

The truth was that LGI had never been a priority in his life. The only reason he’d pushed to involve himself in the business was because of his grandmother’s illness. But she was now semi-retired, thankfully healthy, and the pressure to join had been reduced significantly. 

He couldn’t imagine himself sitting in some high-rise office running someone else’s investments when he’d experienced working for himself and finding fulfillment in it. 

“I know I made a promise.” He turned to his grandmother, reaching gently for her hand. “I made a promise to you. But my heart was never in it. I know how much the company means to you but the Brew House ... it’s becoming just as important to me.”

His grandmother’s eyes searched his and they softened. She patted the back of his hand with her free one. “I want whatever is best for you, child. If it’s that important to you, I would never stand in your way.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders, and he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Now, when are you getting married?” 

His mother piped up, “I know a girl who would be perfect for you, Christian.”

He groaned. “Come on.” 

His father’s chair scraped against the hardwood floor as he pushed his seat back. “Come see me in the study,” he said before walking out of the room.

His father’s office was a dark and sombre room. It was exactly what you’d expect from Graham Laurent, tall wooden bookshelves, leather wingback chairs, a heavy desk that dominated the room. It exuded power, wealth and lofty expectations. Christian had always hated it. 

“I want to buy the Brew House,” he said, after his father had settled into the chair behind his desk.

His father raised a brow. 

It had been a little over three months since he’d set out to make the Brew House a success. And he’d done so.

“I have investors,” he continued. “Carson and George both want to be part of the future of the brand.” 

“You think a couple months of modest success suddenly means you can run a successful business?” his father said acerbically.

He let the sarcasm roll off his back. “Hardly. But you’ve seen the figures. Considering what we started with, our numbers are more than good for a new business.” 

“And six months from now if the cafe is hit and things get a little bit tough, what are you going to do? Are you going to run back to Europe like you’ve run away from everything else in your life?”

An image of big brown eyes flashed through his mind before he shook it away. “Whether you believe in me or not, I’m going to do this. And if it’s not the Brew House, it’ll be something else.” 

Something almost like amusement flashed across his father’s eyes but just as quickly it was gone.

“Whether you sink or swim, that’s up to you.” He opened up a folder on his desk and started to peruse it. Christian knew from years of experience that meant dismissal.

“Come to my office with your investors next week. We’ll get the ball rolling from there,” his father said without looking up from his work. 

Christian bit back a smile. “I’ll do that,” he said before turning away.

“Good work,” his father said from behind him and he stuttered to a stop. They were the simplest words said without any fanfare and yet for some reason Christian was blinking back tears. 

“Thank you,” he said through the lump in his throat.

It wasn’t much, but somehow in that moment, it was enough. 

...

 

He found himself there again. He knew the road by heart now. Probably could get there with his eyes closed if it wasn’t massively reckless. 

A light was on, low and dull. Someone’s bedroom. He’d been watching it for fifteen minutes, hoping foolishly that she’d appear at the window so he could see her face.

He shouldn’t be there, sitting in his car in the dark like some serial killer, but it was only on days when something good had happened or he was lonely or he thought about her that he felt this urge to see her. He somehow managed to restrain himself from showing up there more than once a week.

The desire to see her was even more powerful that day. There was a time when her presence was a constant in his life, when he’d turn around and she’d be there celebrating along with him.

It had been two months. Two months since he’d walked away from her, two months of wondering about her, thinking about her, missing her. It killed him how much he did, how much her presence had become so vital to his well being, to his feeling of happiness. 

But he didn’t know how to reach out to her, not after all this time, not when so much of him didn’t quite trust her. So he stared at the window one more time then willed himself to drive away.

 

It was Saturday morning and the Brew House was full. Alana stepped around a family of four standing in line and marched over to the counter where Christian was working the espresso machine. 

“I think I liked this place a lot better when it was underground,” she said wryly once Christian had finished the order.

He laughed. “You know businesses are supposed to make money, right?" He lifted a mug. "What do you want?"

“One of those French vanilla thingees,” she said and without asking her to clarify he went to work.

“I think it’s safe to say that the B house is a success.” She gestured to the customers. “Congrats, Christian.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t do it by myself,” he said looking around, his eyes falling on each of his employees. 

Alana followed his gaze. “They’re good people.”

He placed the cup in front of her and watched as she took a slow sip. 

“Delicious,” she said breathily before looking up at him. “So, for dinner tonight, do you want me to bring anything?”

He eyed her amusedly. “Do you even know how to cook?”

“Hey!” she said indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I make a mean baked potato.”

He chuckled. “You’re a culinary badass.” 

“You know it.”

“The only thing you need to bring,” he said indolently, a slow smile spreading over his face, “is you. That’s more than enough.” 

She watched him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He let his gaze wander lazily over her. There was no intent behind it other than to tease her and make her blush. 

“Like what?”

“Like that! Like you’re going to eat me for dinner.”

“Alana,” he said, pretending to be shocked, “you’ve got a dirty mouth.” 

A blush spread over Alana’s cheeks and he grinned.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” she said with a huff and he started to crack up at the look of exasperation on her face. But his laughter was contagious and after a moment, she joined him. 

“You’re yourself again,” she said when their laughter had died down.

He looked at her curiously and she tried to clarify. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that sparkle in your eye. Ever since Tay...” her voice drifted off. 

He gave her a slightly mocking smile. “You can say her name. Taylor.”

She made a face. “Ever since Taylor left, you’ve been a lot more serious.”

“I’m serious because I’m running a business,” he said with a short laugh. “I don’t have time to worry about that kid.”

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. He was so nonchalant that it was suspicious. She asked casually, “Have you spoken to her since?” 

“No. That’s all ancient history,” he said with a shrug. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work. We just opened the roof deck, you should go check it out.” 

After one last smile, he turned away and as she watched him she wondered if he was really as casual as he was acting or if it was all for show.

Then she shook her head. Who was she kidding? Of course it was for show. 

She took another heavenly sip of her latte and came to a decision.

There was no other way for it. Since left to their own devices, nothing would change. She’d just have to bring these crazy kids back together. 

 

“Please say you’re coming to my masquerade party!”

“I don’t know if I can.” Taylor avoided Alana’s gaze as she took another spoonful of her toffee ice cream.

Alana had spent the day helping her find something nice to wear to her convocation. Funny how they’d gotten close after her fallout with Christian. But Alana had seen her leaving with her things that day and she’d gotten the full story out of her.

She’d been confused but supportive, saying somewhat vindictively that Christian probably deserved it after all the hearts he’d broken over the years. “Besides, I wouldn’t dare judge you. I’ve done plenty of stupid things in the name of love myself. And you do love him don’t you?” 

Taylor hadn’t needed to say anything, the tear streaked face and the look in her eyes had given her away.

From then on, Alana had been a good friend to her and she was grateful to have someone she could confide in.

“Lies!” Alana said, swinging an arm packed with multicolored bracelets in the air. “You’re just afraid that you know who will be there.” 

“Not really,” she lied. “My grad’s that day and my family’s taking me out to dinner.”

“What time’s your reservation?”

“Seven-thirty,” Taylor mumbled.

“Perfect!” Alana clapped her hands. “My party starts at nine-thirty. No one’s going to show up until ten-ten thirty anyway, so you’ll have more than enough time to make it.” 

“Alana...”

“And if you’re worried about you know who he won’t even be in town.”

Taylor felt a surge of relief and disappointment all at the same time.

“Last I heard he was going to LA to do some coffee thing, so the coast is clear.” Alana grabbed Taylor’s free hand and clasped it between her own. “Will you come, friend?” she asked beseechingly. 

Taylor knew she didn’t have a choice. It would probably make her the world’s worst friend if she missed Alana’s twenty-first birthday and the only person she wanted to avoid wouldn’t be there.

The thought of him made her feel a pang in her chest. Even now, he still had power over her emotions.

She hadn’t seen him since that day in his office, although she’d passed by the cafe now and again in hopes that she would catch a glimpse.

She sent him money every week, trying to pay back what she owed him. He’d never asked for any of it back but she wasn’t the kind of person to run away from her responsibilities and the last thing she wanted to do was be beholden to someone who didn’t want anything to do with her. 

“Okay, I’ll come but no promises that I’m wearing a costume.”

Alana clapped excitedly. “Just wear a mask and it’ll be all good. It’ll probably be for the best anyway. I can’t have you upstaging me on my own birthday!” 

Taylor laughed. “Oh please.”

“No, seriously. With a little makeup and your new hairstyle, you’re super hot, Taye. Your legs are to die for. I actually wish you would go back to being a boy because I don’t need the extra competition.” She gave Taylor a wink and all Taylor could do was shake her head and laugh. 

Sure she’d changed her look a bit since she’d left the coffee shop but Alana was overreacting.

Not that she’d been ashamed of her style before, it was just that four years of university had really stilted it. Jeans, jogging pants and hoodies were more conducive to overnighters at the school library and racing from work to school than dresses. And the thirty minutes it took to do her hair and makeup was a waste of valuable time. It was one of the reasons why she’d impulsively cut her hair off earlier in the year. 

But now that school and all that subterfuge with Christian was over, something inside her had been screaming for change. For a fresh start. She’d updated some of her wardrobe, purchased some makeup basics and taught herself how to work with her ever-growing natural hair.

She’d forgotten how it felt to get first and second glances and while it made her a bit uncomfortable after so many years of being under the radar, the ego boost wasn’t a bad thing.

Alana tossed her cup in the trash and stood up. “Now that that’s been decided, it’s time for you to help me find the perfect shoes for my dress.”

Taylor groaned and got to her feet. Beauty really was pain.

...

 

Friday came quickly. Taylor closed the cab door and made her way carefully up the path to Alana’s party.

The mask felt awkward on her face. It was black and gold, glittery and delicate, and tied securely with organza around her head. With her emerald silk dress, she felt like something out of a fairytale.

She shook her head to clear the fanciful thoughts and handed her invitation to the man in a tuxedo at the door. It was just like Alana to make a twenty-first birthday such a huge event.

The party was being held in an old building across town. The space was expertly designed with draped silk and soft lights, peacock feathers and crystals. The combination of brick walls and wooden floors with those delicate materials created an atmosphere that was decadent and mysterious. Perfect for a masquerade party.

She walked slowly around the room, keeping to the edges as she looked for Alana. She second-guessed her decision to come. She didn’t know anyone here other than Alana and at a quarter to ten, when she’d arrived, the room was barely half-full, so it was impossible for her to hide behind the crowd.

Thankfully Alana saw her and came running up to her squealing, glimmering in her silver dress. “You came! Come, I’ll introduce you to some of my besties.” Alana took her arm and dragged her across the room. She should have known that Alana wouldn’t let her be a wallflower, even if she’d wanted to.

 

Christian eased through the crowd. He nodded to an acquaintance as he saw Carson’s tall frame on the other side of the room. He grabbed a champagne flute and made his way over to him. 

“Why can’t your sister go clubbing like any other twenty-one year old?” he asked as he walked up beside him.

Carson grinned, a flash of white against his gold mask. “Because she’s Alana.”

Christian nodded because that was answer enough. “How long you plan on staying?”

“Maybe another hour.” Carson raised a brow. “Why? Is something on tonight?” 

“Remember Jake Noble? He’s in town for the weekend and wants to…” A flash of green stopped him in his tracks. His eyes followed the movement, watching the wisp of green with intense eyes.

Carson muttered something behind him but he didn’t hear it, his feet had already started moving toward that elusive bit of green.

He didn’t know what force was propelling him other than pure instinct but it kept his eyes focused and sharp. Then the crowd shifted and it was gone.

The music pulsed around him as his eyes flickered through a crowd of sweeping skirts and elaborate masks. He knew it was ridiculous but he couldn’t stop the desperate feeling that if he didn’t find that silk green dress, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

 

Taylor laughed at one of Alana’s friends on the dance floor. He was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, cape and all, and he kept using it in some elaborate dance move that was both hilarious and incredibly lame. 

She was having a surprisingly good time. Alana’s closest friends had taken her in quickly. They’d formed their own little group and had spent most of the night dancing and laughing.

While it wasn’t totally packed on the dance floor, there was still a decent crowd, and the heat was starting to get to her. She waved at the group and pointed up toward doors that led to a balcony upstairs. Leaving them, she made her way through the crowd, upstairs and outside.

It was a beautiful night, so clear that she could see a few stars in the darkened sky. Not many people had made it outside, although she could see a few amorous couples in the shadows. She turned away, feeling a pang at what she didn’t have, and made her way to a vacant corner.

There was something about the night, about the setting, that felt somewhat magical. She didn’t consider herself a romantic, not really, and yet she could feel the essence of it – of romance surrounding her.

The wind made her dress flutter and goose bumps rose on her flesh at the shot of cool air. It was colder than expected but the fresh air was refreshing. She rubbed her arms, deciding whether to stay out a bit longer or to make her way back inside when a voice intruded her thoughts.

“May I?”

Her eyes widened as something was draped over her shoulders. She looked down at the pale pashmina before turning slowly towards the voice. 

“Alana said you might need this.”

Their eyes met. Dark blue colliding with rich brown.

“I...” She stared at him. “Thank you.”

He was handsome, beyond handsome in a black suit and mask. It gave him this aura of mystery and darkness. It made him seem unattainable which made him all the more attractive. What was it about unavailability that increased desire?

It struck her then how strange it was that she was there. That in some weird stroke of luck ... or misfortune ... he’d walked into her life and made her part of this existence; of model friends, penthouse apartments, and masquerade balls.

How had she slid into any of it so easily? How had she managed to capture a man like this even briefly? In that moment, parts of it felt like a dream.

She looked away, clutching the shawl even closer as if needing it desperately for protection.

He’d been watching her and she knew the moment when his eyes left her face because she physically felt the loss.

“It’s a nice night.”

She glanced at him in surprise. She’d expected him to walk away, positive that he had nothing to say to her. He was leaning forward, resting his arms against the railing, his eyes focused on the outside world.

She looked away. “Yes,” she said, her voice coming out in a murmur. “A beautiful night for the birthday girl.”

It was a bit ridiculous, this polite, ultra correct conversation, but she didn’t know how to break it without stepping on a landmine. 

“Mother nature wouldn’t ruin tonight. Alana wouldn’t allow it.”

She smiled a little at that. “She does tend to get her way, doesn’t she?”

“Always.”

There was something about the way he said it that sent warning bells off in her head. In fact, she should be furious with Alana. She’d lied about him being away and now she had forced him into Taylor’s presence.

Yet she was happy that he was here. Although the encounter was awkward, his presence lifted something inside her. She was already dreading the moment when he’d walk away.

“Lucky,” she said softly, “to always get what you want.”

She felt his gaze again. “We don’t always want what’s good for us.”

“It doesn’t stop us from wanting it though.”

She looked at him and their eyes caught. Held. A spark of something hot flashed between them.

“No,” he said, voice low. “It doesn’t.”

Suddenly those heady emotions of the past came storming back and she desperately wanted to touch him, to have his arms around her.

“How do you stop it?” she whispered, partly to herself.

“What?” he asked, eyes hooded beneath the mask.

“Wanting what’s not good for you?”

“Time.”

“Time only makes it harder.” 

“Distance.”

“I think distance would make you want it even more.”

The conversation was getting perilously close to landmine territory. She didn’t care. She needed him to know that she hadn’t stopped caring about him or wanting to be with him. That her feelings were just as strong as they were before.

“Maybe it’s not something you can stop.” He took a step towards her and she swallowed hard. Her pulse hammered against her throat.

He let his hand flutter over her skirt in a butterfly caress. “Maybe it’s... not as bad for you as you thought.”

“Christian Laurent is that you?”

The feminine shriek behind them shattered the moment. Taylor turned her head to see a woman in a pink gown making her way over to them and her hands curled in frustration at the interruption.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” the woman declared as she shifted slightly so that her back was turned to Taylor.

“Rebecca, it’s been a while,” he said with a short nod.

“Where have you been? No one ever sees you out and about anymore.” She tapped his chest in rebuke.

“I’ve had a few things going since I got back.”

“Oh right! I heard that you were running some little shop on the east side.”

Taylor rolled her eyes at her tactlessness and Christian saw it. A corner of his mouth went up in a barely there smile. It warmed her from the inside out.

Rebecca caught the look and turned to give Taylor a thorough once-over. “And who is this?”

Christian started at her for a few seconds too long and she looked away, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“Taylor,” he said finally. “Taylor Mooreland.”

“Hello,” Rebecca said before Christian could introduce them properly. “I’m Rebecca Clarington.” She stretched out her last name as if to emphasize its importance but Taylor just stared at her blankly.

“Nice to meet you,” she said politely.

Rebecca’s face twitched before she turned back to Christian with a glittery smile. “Do you remember my brother James? He’s inside. He’d love to say hello.” She slid a hand around his arm and started to shift forward.

He glanced at Taylor and with a small shrug – as if to say he had no other choice –let Rebecca drag him away.

Taylor felt panic as she watched him go. They’d been so close to turning a corner, she could feel it. If she let him go now, would she ever see him again?

“Don’t go!” she said, her voice coming out like a lash. A few people on the balcony turned at her voice but she ignored them, her eyes on Christian as he turned.

“I miss you. I miss laughing with you, talking to you. I miss the way you used to tease me.” She didn’t care that Rebecca was eyeing her like she was last year’s designer shoes. She had to get through to him. “You know what's crazy? Coffee doesn’t taste right to me anymore. I think I can only have it at the Brew House. With you. I got a passport.” She was rambling but she couldn’t stop. “I’ve been saving up to go somewhere amazing this summer. And all I’ve been thinking about is Italy or Paris. Because you’ve been there. Because they’re places that you love so much.”

His eyes were unreadable as he watched her and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “I know I have no right to say any of this but I want you to know that the way I feel hasn’t changed.”

Rebecca glared at her and tugged at Christian’s arm. “Are you coming?”

Christian removed Rebecca’s hand from his arm and in one heart stopping moment she thought he was going to come back to her but that quickly faded when he spoke.

“I can’t do this right now, Taylor,” he said, shaking his head, and with horror she watched him turn away.

The words felt like the slamming of a cell door. It felt like finality. Taylor blinked back tears as she watched him leave her again.

It had taken two months for it hit her like a ton of bricks.

It was really over.

...

 

Taylor crawled out of bed around two in the afternoon feeling hopeless and empty. Why hadn’t she learned her lesson? Why did she keep doing this to herself? Maybe she deserved it after what she’d put Christian through all those months.

But why wasn’t she good enough to forgive? If he had ever truly cared about her, he would have given her another chance, especially after last night. After she’d put herself on the line and practically begged him to love her back.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and dragged herself to the kitchen.

Her brother looked at her as if she had grown two heads. “You look rough.”

She looked down at herself in an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. “I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

“Just sayin’.”

“You can keep sayin’ it elsewhere.”

He shrugged and grabbed a banana. At the door, he turned to look at her. “Just say the word and I’ll beat him up for you.”

She gave him a wet smile. The kid was too perceptive for his own good. “Thanks buddy.”

He nodded.

She watched him leave before raiding the kitchen. She found a box of cookies, a bag of chips and a can of soda. Breakfast of champions.

She was ripping open the bag when the doorbell rang.

Even though no one could see her from the front door, she scrunched low in her seat. She didn’t need anyone she knew seeing her like this.

She heard low voices and then blocked them out. She was munching morosely on a mouthful of chips when her mother walked in the kitchen. “I’ll have to talk to this young man of yours—,”

“He’s not my young man!” Taylor said out of habit.

Her mother continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “—if you’re going to keep coming home crying.”

“It’s not him. It’s ... it’s me.”

“Does he still blame you for that dressing up as a boy business? I still don’t understand why you did that.”

Taylor silently groaned, blaming herself for sharing the story with her mom in a moment of weakness.

“Because I was stupid, okay? Because I thought for some dumb reason I needed him in my life no matter the cost.”

“You should have told me.”

Taylor stumbled out of her chair and stared at Christian in shock. He was standing in her doorway, dressed immaculately as ever, looking too good to be real.

Why did he have to find her like this? At her lowest? “I – I ... have to go.” She tried to rush past him but he grabbed her arm before she could go.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Let’s have some honesty between us. Not as a boy. Not wearing a mask. As you are.”

She sighed. How could she even argue that point?

“Why don’t you guys talk outside?” her mother suggested, shooing them towards the door.

Taylor led him to the front and closed the door quietly behind her.

“Why are you here? I thought after last night...” She looked away.

“I didn’t want to talk with Rebecca there.”

Is that what he’d meant when he said he couldn’t do this “now”? That he couldn’t have that conversation with everyone around? A small kernel of hope began to flower inside her.

“You should have told me,” he repeated, watching her. “As soon as you knew how you felt.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes tightly before opening them again. “I know and I regret it. I wish you knew how much.”

“Last night I saw you in that green dress. I saw you and something inside me cracked.” He reached for her, startling her when he caressed her face. “I was so confused and hurt, I blamed you because I trusted you more than I even trusted myself. But I realized something last night. It didn’t matter to me. None of it. The only thing that matters,” he cupped her face between both hands, his eyes bright as he looked at her, “is being with you. Man or woman, Taye, I love you.”

She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming but he was still standing there, holding her face as if it was something precious and the look, that look in his eyes made her feel like she’d just been given the greatest gift.

“Me too,” she finally whispered and he crooked a brow at her.

“After all that, that’s what I get? Me too?”

She smiled, big and bright, happier than she’d been in  ... she couldn’t actually remember if she’d ever been this glad about anything before in her life. “I love you, Christian.”

His eyes went dark. “Good.” Then he was sliding his arms around her waist, dragging her forward and kissing her.

He kissed her as if she was his lifeline. Urgently, desperately, with a need that took her breath away. His tongue coaxed and teased, stroking the inside of her mouth until her legs wobbled. It was all she could do not to melt into a puddle beneath his feet.

He pressed her against the door, his hips grounding slowly against her and she made a low sound in her throat, aching, her fingers sinking into the silky thickness of his hair.

“I like you like this,” he said, dropping his head to make slow love to the curve of her neck. He dragged his teeth lightly against her skin. “I’m glad you’re a girl.”

She took a quick, harsh breath barely managing to say raspily, “I can tell.”

He laughed quietly in the curve of her neck and she smiled at the sensation.

“Come to Paris with me,” he said after a time, when their breathing had calmed a little and she pulled back with a start.

Her shock amused him. “I remember someone saying something about planning a trip. So...” He reached for his phone with one hand, the other at her waist making lazy patterns against her skin, and flicked through it before handing it to her. On the screen showed two tickets to Paris and printed on one was her name: Ms. Taylor Mooreland.

“Can I be the first stamp on your passport?”

She stared at him, overwhelmed by a feeling of love so strong that it actually brought tears to her eyes.

“I love you.”

He grinned, wrapping both arms around her waist to drag her back towards him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said with an enthusiasm that would probably embarrass her later and kissed the corners of his mouth.

“Man, a free trip and you’re all over me,” he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes. “Laurent, will you just shut up and kiss me?”

His mouth curled in one of those patented Christian smiles, as he pressed her back against the front door. “Mooreland, it’d be my pleasure.”

 

Author's Note by Village

I just wanted to take this time to thank all you for sticking with this storyline for so long. Part of me can't believe it's done.

There have been people who have stayed around from the beginning and I honestly don't know if I could of completed it if not for your continued support. I'm as effusive as Taylor when I say, thank you, thank you, thank you for the feedback! I appreciate it more than you know.

V

 

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