Saving Taylor (A Patrick Kane Story)

Chapter Four

Hey friends :D
Long time no story, eh? I am trying to find a day that I can commit to posting but for right now I'm just going to focus on trying to post as often as possible. ANYWAYS...the long awaited Chapter Four is here, so enjoy!

The first thing that registered when I woke up was the smell of an unpleasant stench near my face. Blinking, my eyes fell on a gray and pink striped Adidas sock wedged right under my chin. Becca. To get the scent away from my face, I carefully tickled the bottom of her foot. Instead of moving her foot, like I expected, she kicked out, nailing in me smack-dab in the middle of my forehead.

"Oh my god! Ow, Becca!" I screeched, rubbing the sure-to-be bruise on my forehead.
Confused at the sudden noise, Becca jolted awake and slurred, "What? What's the matter? Where's the fire?"

"You just nailed me in the forehead with your foot," I laughed, smoothing out my hair and swinging my legs over the side of my bed.

"I was asleep!" She protested, laughing as well. "It's not my fault!"

Slowly, I got up, stretched, and sauntered over to the right towards my bathroom.

"What time's prince charming arriving?" Becca asked, wiggling her brow in a suggestive manner.

I rolled my eyes, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Yikes. Bedhead strikes again. "He's not my prince charming." I defended, attempting to flatten down what was presumably my hair. "I only met him yesterday and he's just a guy that is sort of going through the same thing as me. Honestly, I think the only reason he asked me was because he felt bad for me."

By now Becca was up and flipping through a magazine. Without even looking up, she responded, "Don't be that way, Tay. Not all guys just want to go on a pity date with you. Maybe he really thinks of you as a potential gf."

"Becca, can you please help me with my hair?" I begged for probably the umpteenth time.

She just laughed. "Wow, you must be really into him. Asking me to do your hair." Of course she'd ridicule me in my time of need. Good luck getting twenty bucks from me for your next "emergency" candy binge.

Rolling my eyes, a nasty habit I found myself doing a lot recently, I replied, "Or maybe it's because I need assistance since I only have one working leg and lack the balance required to both hold myself up and do my hair." Why am I so snappy and defensive all of a sudden? All she's doing is talking about Patrick.

Jokingly, Becca grumbled and made a huge show about walking over to me. It wasn't long before she fixed my hair into loose, beachy curls and accented it with a Dutch braid on the side without my part. Within ten minutes, I was dressed in a flowy button up and red tank top and sliding into my white jeans.

Right as Becca finished tying the lace of my combat boot, the sound of the doorbell began to reverberate throughout the house. Instantly, panic welled up in my chest and I found it difficult to breathe. What if I trip down the stairs? What if I make a fool out of myself? What if I got something stuck in my teeth, would he tell me? Is his hair naturally that curly? What if I'm really not ready to start dating again? What if he is the same as Joe? My naturally pessimistic mind raced at an unhealthy rate. Rainbows and puppies, Tay, rainbows and puppies.

"Here, I'll go open the door. That should give you enough time to slide down the stairs, okay? Ready? Alright. Break!" Becca ordered, the athletic side of her showing. Always making it into a competiton, aren't ya, Becca.

Before I could tell her to walk slowly so that I'd have a fighting chance at calming down my racing heart, she flew out of my room, my crutches reluctantly close at her heels. I sat on my butt, tucked my crutches under my arms, and slowly lifted myself up and down a stair, repeating this routine seven more times. As I reached the second to last step, I heard his voice...his sweet, masculine voice with a hint of a New York accent.