Safe and Sound

six - travis

I watched Taylor carefully. There was something so intriguing about her. Not only that her dad was some huge hot shot Mafia guy, but just her, herself. She was special.

We managed to make casual conversation for a while, but she didn't really seem like she was fully 'in it'. I ended up deciding that maybe she wasn't as interested as I was, and she'd only decided to come over out of politeness. I tried to stay confident though. Maybe she was just having a bad day – I was pretty sure she was on her period because of the jean's incident earlier. Maybe that was it. She was having a bad day because she was on her period. 

When I finished making the pasta, she thanked me and we sat down across from each other to eat. She didn't eat a lot, and I know she thinks I didn't notice, but I did. She spent more time swirling the pasta on her fork than actually eating it. Maybe she didn't like it, or she just wasn't hungry. Either way, I didn't say anything about it.

"So anyway... he ended up being a real piece of shit." Taylor mumbled, swirling her second glass of wine in her hand.

"How so?" I asked, and cleared away our plates. Taylor got up and followed me, dropping down on the island stool as I stacked our bowls into the dishwasher.

"Some guys are just assholes, you know?" Taylor muttered, taking a deep gulp of her wine. I made a mental note not to let her have another - two glasses in, and she was already tipsy. I would also be driving her home. No negotiations. 

"I know," I said, stepping around the island toward her. She swiveled slightly on her stool to face me. I leaned in, my voice low as I added, "Just so we're clear, I'm not one of them."

Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, the air between us thickened with tension. She exhaled slowly, breaking it just a bit. "Maybe you are. Maybe you're lying, and I wouldn't know. I don't know you," she murmured, her words pointed but soft. I laughed quietly, sliding onto the stool next to her.

"True. You don't know me, and I don't know you."

She narrowed her eyes and took another long sip, draining her glass. "Look, buddy, there's not much to know. I'm lonely as hell, I run a bookstore by myself, I live in a tiny house with my cats, and last night, my ex beat me because he wanted our baby dead. And he got what he wanted." She paused, crossing her legs and leaning back. "That's pretty much it. Your turn."

My stomach tightened. That wasn't at all the story I expected. "Taylor... your ex? I'm so sorry—"

"I don't need your pity, Travis." She cut me off sharply, then softened again. "You wanted to know me. Well, there you go. Now, it's your turn." She stared at me for a second longer, then smirked as if she had an idea. "Or... we could just make out."

I blinked, caught completely off guard. "Taylor, you're drunk."

"I most certainly am not," she slurred, glaring at her empty glass in frustration. "I've only had two!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You're a lightweight."

"I am not!" she protested, her words spilling out with a pout.

Taylor's pout deepened, her cheeks flushed from the wine. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she leaned in just a little closer, her breath warm, lips slightly parted.

"You're hot, Travis. Like... really hot," she slurred, "And I want to kiss you. Right now."

I felt my heart skip. She wasn't holding back, and I could tell it wasn't just the alcohol talking—well, maybe it was, but there was something raw beneath her words. Sadness. Maybe even a little desperation. She leaned forward again, her fingers brushing against my arm. I could smell the faint scent of wine on her breath. It made it hard to focus.