Taylor and I went out into the stadium once we were done in the restroom, and we ended up sitting next to each other the whole time he was at the game. We talked to virtually no one else besides each other. We swapped stories of our very different childhoods.
He was the oldest, and I was the youngest.
He was poor, and I was rich.
He never left Inglewood, and I traveled the world.
But, somehow, we turned out to be two people who very much enjoyed each other's company—enjoyed sharing conversation. We were altogether different, and yet somehow so similar.
Conversation with Taylor was easy and honest. We looked each other in the eyes and told each other the truth about things even if it was unflattering. We laughed a lot and had serious moments, too. It was with great reluctance that he left the game, and it was only because a phone call came in from the hotel.
He was there until the fourth quarter, but I was still sad when he had to go. I pretended to be okay with it. He didn't want to leave either, but there was just no way around it. He said it had to do with the kitchen drama that had occurred that morning.
I got out of my chair and walked with him through the suite when he went to leave. I claimed that I needed to get something else to drink, but really, I just wanted to walk him out.
My dad was in the suite, watching the game through the glass. Taylor told him goodbye and thanked him again for everything. My dad hugged Taylor, which wouldn't have been weird at all, only my dad really wasn't a hugger. Sure, he hugged me and my sisters all the time, but I had never seen him hug Karen or Nick, or anyone else, for that matter. I brushed it off, figuring there was really no explanation for it other than he liked the guy and felt like it was the right thing to do in the moment.
"We leave in the morning," Dad said to Taylor, causing my heart to sink. "I hope to see you before then, but if not—"
Taylor held up a finger, causing my dad to cut his sentence short. "I didn't mean to interrupt you but I was going to ask your permission to take your daughter to dinner tonight." He glanced at me. "I haven't even asked you yet. You might have plans already, but I—"
"Yes," I said. "I mean, no, I don't have plans." I looked at dad. "Do we? Do I? Am I forgetting something?"
Dad gave me an amused grin and shook his head. "No, you're not forgetting anything."
I looked at Taylor. "Come on," I said, feeling wary of my dad's knowing smile. "We'll talk about it on the way out. I know you have to get back."
I walked Taylor to the hallway, talking about restaurant options that were close to our hotel. He still had a lot of work to do, but he said if I could wait till around eight o'clock and eat a late dinner, he would be able to relax for the rest of the evening.
It pleased me greatly that he was taking the reins on making time to hang out with me again. We got along like two people who not only knew each other, but actually belonged together. I naturally meshed with Taylor. I was so relieved that he was asking me to dinner. I was afraid that he was going to leave this suite, I would leave Boston in the morning, and I would never see him again.
We were discussing the difference between smelt roe and salmon roe, and had essentially agreed on sushi for dinner by the time we made our way to the hall. Lucas Sims came walking down the hall just as we went out there. He was headed toward the suite next door, the one that was always reserved for the friends and family of the legendary running back, Tig Sims.
Lucas was Tig's baby brother, and he came to all the home games. Lucas was a character. A funny, cool guy who was handsome enough to get by on his looks in life, even if he didn't have a famous big brother like Tig. He really was handsome. He had done some modeling. How did I know this? He had shown me his portfolio. Multiple times. That's what I mean by him being a character. He was decked out from head to toe in designer, fashion forward clothing.
"What's up, beautiful baby girl?" Lucas asked, coming in for the hug as he walked up to me.
I reached out to hug him, breathing in the strong smell of cologne that hovered in the air around him.
"What's up, Lucas?" I asked.
"You know me, Blue-Girl. Just ballin', baby."
"I know you are," I said.
"Your daddy rocked that anthem," he said.
We were standing next to the door of the suite, and he glanced at it. "Y'all right here in number four?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Imma hafta go in there and tell Alec he rocked that song," he said, reaching out for the door handle. It was something he had done before. My dad knew Lucas and wouldn't be upset for him to come into the suite. I nodded at Lucas, knowing he was going in no matter what I said.
"Lucas Sims," he said, holding his hand out for Taylor. "Male model, baller, and baby brother of Tig Sims."
I looked at Taylor, wondering how he would take Lucas—how he would react.
"Taylor Patterson," he said with a smile, shaking the man's hand. "Business owner, book writer, and also baller." He glanced at me with an irresistible, uncertain shrug. "I'm a baller, wouldn’t you say?"
He was messing around, but I smiled and pointed at Taylor while nodding and looking at Lucas. "He really is a baller," I assured Lucas. "No joke."
Lucas liked that, he wore a huge grin and slyly nodded his approval at Taylor before heading into the suite to talk to my dad.
Taylor had played it off like nothing was wrong, but he looked at Lucas a little sideways from the moment Lucas called me 'baby girl'. Lucas was just like that. As of this moment, he was most likely saying things of that nature to Karen and every other girl in our suite. It didn’t mean anything, coming from Lucas, but it was interesting to see the slight shift in Taylor's demeanor. It reminded me of the evening before in the car when my father said those things to make him jealous. He just stiffened up a little.
"I guess I'll see you at eight," Taylor said.
Not knowing that he was about to speak, I said, "He's funny," at the same exact time.
Taylor had heard my statement in spite of us talking over each other, and he smiled at me. "He called himself a baller," he said responding to my comment.
"So did you," I said with a silly wide-eyed expression, teasing him—flirting with him.
"Yes, but I really am a baller," Taylor said. "And I only said it in response to him saying it."
I laughed. "I know you have to go," I said reluctantly.
"I'll come to your room at eight," he said.
***
Taylor knocked on my door at eight o'clock on the dot. My dad, along with Karen and Nick, were all in the living room with me when he got there. Nick was playing a videogame where his character had to kill other people who were online playing. My dad didn't know how to work the controller, but he liked to watch Nick battle and he often told him where to go and what to do with his character. Sometimes, they argued like teenage brothers, but Nick always gave in.
Karen and I were in the living room with them, watching the action when Taylor got there.
I greeted him at the door. I still had on my black romper, but I traded the denim jacket for a slightly dressier black and white one.
Taylor reached in to hug me when he came in the door. "You're so beautiful," was the first thing he said to me, and he said it close enough to my ear that no one else heard. Instead of answering him out loud, I gave his arms an extra squeeze. While I was near him, I breathed in his clean scent, feeling utterly calm and at peace now that he was nearby. I really just truly, genuinely liked this guy. My heart was happy.
"Hey, Taylor," my dad said from across the room.
"Hey, Mr. Stone," Taylor waved as we broke contact and began heading toward the living room.
"Blue said you were eating sushi."
"Yes sir, that's what we talked about." He touched his mid-section. "I'm starving, too." He looked around as if searching for something. "Have you guys eaten? Would you like to come with us, or can we bring you something back?"
"You're not coming with us, but we can bring you something back," I said.
Everyone knew I was (mostly) joking, so they laughed about how quickly and impassively I said it.
"No. Thank you, though, Taylor," Dad said. "We were just talking about ordering something."
"Somebody mentioned chowder at the game earlier, and your dad's hungry for that now," Karen said. "I've got the number for three different places. We're gonna try them all and see which one's the best."
"Sounds fun," Taylor said. "You'll have to give me the verdict."
Dad smiled at him. "Take care of my daughter," he said.
Taylor gave a little bow. "For the next two hours, I will focus on nothing else."
His words sent chills up my spine. Chivalry was attractive to me, and Taylor was so very good at it. He was smooth and considerate while somehow being tough, no nonsense, and in control. I wanted to do anything I could to extend the time that he was planning on focusing on me. Surely, I could get more than a couple of hours. Maybe the rest of his life? Was that too much to ask?
***
We sat at the sushi bar instead of getting a table.
We mostly talked to each other, but we also made conversation with the chefs. We were there for quite a while, eating, and getting to know more of each other. We didn't make physical contact, but we flirted and smiled, and it was completely obvious that I liked him and he liked me.
Two hours passed in what felt like ten minutes, and before I knew what was happening, Taylor had paid the check and we were leaving.
We walked to a local coffee shop that didn't close until midnight. We had eaten dessert at the sushi bar, so neither of us were hungry. I knew, however, that going back to the hotel would signal the end of our evening together, so I asked if we could go to the coffee shop to avoid that happening.
We ordered tea and ended up staying there until almost closing time.
Again, time passed too quickly.
We walked slowly on our way back to the hotel, so it was after midnight by the time we got there. Taylor spoke briefly to the doorman on duty and then to the concierge before leading me to a place on the edge of the lobby where no one was paying attention to us.
"I wonder if your dad found the world's best chowder," he said as we made our way over there.
I smiled. "I'm surprised he didn't already know what the best one was," I said. "Everything's a contest with him. He's constantly asking us to rate things."
Taylor nodded at that. "I remember him making us all rate the appetizers at Mitch's the other night."
"Exactly," I said. "It's always 'which one is your favorite', or 'how would you rate it, one to ten'."
"Ten," Taylor said.
I looked at him, and he smiled. "Twelve or fifteen out of ten, actually."
"What are we rating?" I asked.
"Tonight. This moment, right now."
"Which one is it?" I asked. "Tonight, or this moment?"
"Why?" he asked. "Would they be two different scores for you? Aren't they the same?"
I shook my head confidently. "No. Tonight in general is a fifteen out of ten, but this moment, right now… well…" I paused and glanced around. "It's more like an eight or nine out of ten. Don't you think? Maybe seven even."
Taylor's face turned into an offended grimace, which made me laugh.
"What? I'm just being honest."
"What's wrong with this moment?" he asked.
"Nothing's wrong with it. Eight or nine out of ten isn't bad. Or even seven."
"What could make it better, then?"
I looked around and let out a little sigh. "We're about to say goodnight, and I'll get in the elevator and go to my room."
"Yeah, that is pretty bad," he agreed.
"It wouldn't be so bad if we were in a different location," I said. I glanced around, noting the various hotel employees in the distance. "I would have given us a fifteen if we were in a place where we could maybe say goodbye without everybody noticing us. It's points off for location."
Taylor looked around with furrowed eyebrows and a serious expression like he was really trying to assess the situation. "You're so right," he said, pretending to be disappointed.
"This is a really terrible place to say goodbye."
"What do we do?" I asked.
"I have an idea," he said.
And just like that, he grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator. Aside from a quick hand on my back or an accidental brush, it was the first time he had touched me all evening. He was officially holding my hand, and I stepped onto the elevator feeling breathless and shaken because of it.