Boston Blues - BLACKBIRD book 2

13. a different musing

Taylor came out of the bathroom and frowned at finding Gillian already dressed.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, don't wanna get home late," she said, zipping up her boots.

He only nodded, but reached out to take her hand when she came near him to grab her jacket. She allowed him to pull her closer and kiss her goodbye. His lips were soft and warm, and he was a good kisser.

"You have my number," he breathed by her lips.

"I do." She smiled. "Stay, I know my way out."

And she did. She always knew her way out, to get away at the speed of light. Especially this time, because she'd never expected feeling so fine with Taylor. For these cases, the book of the proper loner dictated a swift escape to a safe haven. That was home. Where Connor had invited his friends Tim and Mike over, and practiced his chef skills to honor them—making a complete mess of the kitchen.

Their voices filled the house as they sat around the table with their computers, playing together online. Gillian smiled to herself, thinking of Kurt when the music of choice turned out to be A Perfect Circle. So she took on the quest of putting some order to the kitchen as she sang along under her breath, smiling at the way the boys called each other out in their unintelligible dialect of binary mythic warriors.

Next morning, Gillian let Cook rant about them working with the DEA again—weird, it'd taken him two days—and frowned when she had some sort of physical memory from the night before. Nothing clear, just a flashback of sensations from the couple of hours she'd spent with Taylor. But it felt awkward.

Cook paused to breathe and went on some more. He was naïve enough to think she'd heard a single word he'd said—while Gillian wondered what was wrong about feeling good. She'd waited for months for a chance to be with Taylor, and he'd turned out to be not only hot and fun, but also sweet. Then why the hell did she feel like this? It was... She tried to find the word as Cook finished his preaching. She reacted enough to nod at him, spin around and leave his office.

It was...? She kept thinking as she headed to her office, dodging colleagues out of instinct rather than attention.

"Oh, c'mon, man, that's cheating!" said Hank when she walked in, and she frowned at those words.

Hank, Ron and Fred played poker, and as usual, Fred was picking them clean. There was no beating him at cards.

Cheating. Yeah, that was it. Sort of. That was the 'feeling bad about feeling good'. It was like she'd cheated on somebody by being with Taylor. Well, not quite. Not cheating. It was the awful sensation that she shouldn't be with him because... because...

"So bad?" asked Aldana, noticing her furrowed brow.

"What?" Gillian frowned deeper, startled from her erratic thoughts.

"Cook."

She shook her head and only then noticed that Aldana was at her desk.

"Tell me, Al, what the hell do we have seven desks for, if you're still gonna use mine?"

"Oh, that's just to honor tradition."

"I see. Anything up?"

"Nope. Looks like we're having a nice quiet weekend." Aldana met her eyes. "You okay, Reg?"

"Yeah."

She went on to the coffee machine, to avoid more questions.

What was she to answer? Well, you see, yesterday I had this lovely moment with this awesome, smart, hot, young man. He made me feel like I was touching the sky, and now I hate myself for it. 'Cause I have this stupid nagging sensation that it wasn't right being with him. I mean, that he was not the right man to make me feel like this. Right as in correct, you know?

Gillian froze at the thought. That was it. That was the accurate description of what she felt. And it made even less sense than the cheating sensation. Because if not Taylor, who was the correct man to make her feel good? There was nobody else she was interested in, no feelings for any other man whatsoever.

Jeez, age did come bearing gifts.