So do you love me? Taylor York Fanfic

• Chapter 6 •

Taylor's POV

I fix the collar of my leather jacket before locking my car, the clicking noise echoing through the almost barren street. Downtown La is relatively quiet, the usual business men and women now at their workplaces.

I head into American Apparel to pick up some new shirts and possibly a present for Wednesday. Hayley gave me the duty of getting her a dress to wear to the small birthday party we arranged.

With a couple shirts on my arm, I go to the women's section, trying my best to find a dress that was simple but pretty. I call Hayley as I have a look around, needing guidance with her - so called -'women's intuition.

"Are you there?"

"Yeah. There are a lot of dresses." I say, my brows furrowed as I take on all of them.

"Of course there is, Tay. She'd like a simple one; lightweight and a straight fit." She explains. Her calm voice makes me wonder whether she's already asked Wednesday about this. I shake my head - Hayley doesn't ruin surprises.

With my choices narrowed down, I see one that could be suitable and go towards it. "What about a red one?"

"No, she may not like red. Actually, who hates red?" She wonders, and I roll my eyes. Typical of her to get distracted. I spend quite a few minutes in search of anything Hayley agrees with, curses directed towards her for not being here slipping out of my mouth several times.

I turn and walk away from a dress for what seems to be the fiftieth time and go to one that seems to be more monochromatic; my preferred colours. Yes, I do like colours that are bright but I don't tend to wear them.

"How does a striped, black and white one sound?"

"Like a good choice." Hayley agrees, and I feel a spark of triumph go through me. I pick it up and rest it on my arm. Saying goodbye to Hayley, I slip my phone back into my jeans and hurry to the counter to pay.

•••
Wednesday's POV

I'm laying on the couch, watching Corpse Bride, when my hand scrapes the bottom of my popcorn bowl. With a groan of annoyance, I pause the film and run to the kitchen where I get out more kernels to pop. In between shaking the pot, I prop my balcony doors open to let some fresh air in.

I fiddle with the drawstrings of my shorts and a couple minutes later I pour my popcorn into my bowl and head back to the couch. There, I wrap myself in a blanket and resume the film.

I soon become engrossed in the film and begin to remember how I'd watch it with my sister Emily. The Bride's features almost resemble my sister's; high cheekbones, pink lips, doe-eyed. She always denies her beauty - calling them lies - but the number of boys on her trail could prove that she's wrong.

I, however, was a different story; only one slightly serious relationship and a couple of one night stands before I went to the military. The last thing on my mind then was to have a partner, or even get laid.

The shrill sound of my apartment's buzzer makes me jump from fright, my popcorn thankfully staying in the bowl. I stand from the couch and jog over to the door.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, it's Taylor." He says, his voice a little jittery. My brows crease at his unexpected arrival but I buzz him in nonetheless. I unlock my door and lean against it as I wait for him to come up.