Wide Open

f i f t y o n e

All five pictures that I submitted to Grey ended up in the Monday edition of The Daily Scoop. I wasn't expecting it, but with a lack of other news around campus last week the Homecoming game was the biggest point of interest. The picture of Taylor's celebration dance after his second touchdown made the front page. I sent him a screenshot as soon as I got the proof. 

Taylor Reed: PHOTO COURTESY OF CAMRYN QUINN!!!!!

It was immediately followed by another text, this one more serious in tone, congratulating me again. I reminded him that I pointed a lens and clicked He was the one who had to burn a thousands of calories and collect more bruises from tackles than I wish to see in a lifetime.

He could barely sit down without wincing when I saw him yesterday, even though it's been days since the game. He then proceeded to pull down his pants simultaneously giving me a heart attack and heartache at the same time. I was worried about what he was showing me, but then disappointed when the glimpse of his skin was limited and filled with a giant purple and black spot on his left butt cheek. It's the aftermath of a nasty tackle. I quickly looked away and he teased me for blushing over his butt. Taylor, of course, offered to show me more and reminded me all I had to do was ask. If I wasn't such a wuss I would. Just to see if Taylor is all talk, or if there is anything more beyond the words he so often jokingly says to me.

I've spun myself into a Ryn sized tornado multiple times this week overthinking thoughts that have no right to be in my head. Taylor and I have quickly become just as bad as Alyssa and Anderson. I used to think she was crazy for making herself scarce around our dorm. Returning most days to only gather a few more days worth of supplies and then retreating back to Anderson's house. But I've become no better. I've been at Taylor's house everyday for the past five days. Mostly under the pretense of tutoring seeing as our sessions almost never actually take place at the tutor center anymore. Or I'm there because of the list, the one Taylor is determined to help me complete. My visits quickly turn into other things, though. Like making dinner, hanging out with his roommates or just the two of us in his room.

It reminds me of making a best friend as a little kid. You start a new school year and leach onto the first nice person you meet in your class. Quickly, you gravitate to that person at lunch and recess. And then you beg your parents for a play date because the weekends are too long without them. That person is suddenly always there, a permanent fixture in your life. Taylor has become my best friend. Seemingly overnight, my world shifted to create a new space for him to nestle into.

We've weaseled our way into each other's life, sharing more than either of us could have every imagined.  Even with our comfortable nature, I haven't yet asked about the topic I really want to. We haven't kissed again, not because I haven't wanted to, but because I'm too chicken to bring it up. Taylor hasn't either, but I think he's covered in feathers too.

Just because he hasn't kissed me, doesn't mean he's shied away from letting his hands touch my body. The typical ones from him like a poke here, or a tickle there have evolved from our first encounters. It feels like he finds reasons to touch me. I live for the moments his hand rests on my leg as we play games with his roommates, or the way he reaches for my hand and squeezes it as he walks by me. A few times as we said goodbye, after he walked me back to my dorm, he rested a hand on my cheek. The closest thing I've gotten to a kiss is when he presses his lips against the back of my hand before he leaves. And every time, with every touch, I lean in further. I want it to convey what I hoped the kiss did five damn days ago.