••Taylors POV
I take a long, hot shower when I get back to my room. It's the only way I know to clear my thoughts, that and taking photography, which I'm not really in the mood for right now. Maybe I'll go down to beach tomorrow for that but right now, I just want to put on some sweatpants, order room service, and maybe watch a movie. I don't want to think after this shower, I really just want to sleep.
My thoughts are a mess, and every drop of water makes my muscles feel like fire. A knock on the door breaks my concentration just as I'm getting out. Its probably room service if I'm guessing, and going to the door in a towel wouldn't be that big of a deal, right?
I wrap it around securely, locking my fingers tightly around the relatively short fabric, and walk out of the bathroom. Maybe this is crazy but I'm not really in the mood to think in my right mind.
But the knocks come from the adjoining rooms door. I'm not sure it's even allowed to open it. Despite my instinct, I fiddle with the lock on the door, keeping one hand clasped on the towel as I work, finally half-opening the door.
"Taylor, open the door," a voice comes through the crease. Tanner's brown curls peak through the opening, pushing the door slightly. You think you can escape the guy in one way and he turns up in a joint room as yours.
"What are you doing here?" I half-shout, backing up, trying to pull down and keep up the increasingly small towel.
He walks in, but stops at the doorway, looking me up and down and swallowing. "I need to talk to you."
His gaze seems to slow by my collarbone, as if looking for something, but quickly carries back to my eyes.
I take a deep breath. "Why- How'd you get in that room?"
"I rented it. Listen, can we please talk?" His eyes lock with mine and I instantly feel like I'm falling. "Please."
I nod and he grabs my wrist, pulling me to my bed and sitting me down. My heart has to be pounding right now but I can't truly concentrate on anything now between his eyes and the way he's looking at me. As I have said before, my emotions are a mess and lost to me, but right now, I do know I'm intoxicated.
"I should've been honest with you from the beginning, and if you'll take it now, this is the truth; I do what Quincy wants because he put me where I am, I'm scared he can take it away if I don't do what he wants. I thought I felt something for Monica, but that was before you showed back up," He says, running a hand across his head. "Why I didn't contact you all those years.. it's because Quincy said you were a distraction, that you'd hold me back."
He pauses for a moment, to let it set in. "But I don't care anymore about what he thinks, Taylor. I want you, and I just really don't care about anything else at the moment."
I feel tears prick at my vision. It's crazy how something can mean so much to you after you only started seeing him this way for a short period. But right now, I can see myself staring at his 16 year old self, and thinking that maybe we would end up together. That was a thought I just brushed off then, but now I feel like its actually a reality. That this man in front of me means a great deal to me, and I care for him more than I'd admit.
I lean forward, using one hand to cup his cheek as I press my lips into his. It's soft and gentle, and our lips barely part when I break the silence.
"I like you," I whisper, smiling against his lips. He breathes out a laugh, the action making chills develop on my skin. But I don't blame him, the idea is far fetched from our old selves. We use to deny things like this daily, but now it just feels ironic. "I really like you."
He kisses me again, his hand sweeping across my back. He falls back on the bed suddenly, pulling me with him, and I struggle with keeping the towel up with me.
He doesn't seem to care at all, just continues running his lips against mine, and I don't have much say. "Tanner," I laugh breathlessly.
He stops momentarily and I pull away, grinning down at him. "I'm in a towel. I should probably- you know, get back to the shower."
I sit back and wiggle off his lap until I stand in front of him, trying to adjust the towel where it had strayed. When I look back, Tanner's still laying on the bed, hair now ruffled messily, set of his elbows to observe me. I raise an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Nothing. You're just beautiful, is all."
I blush. "I'm not-"
In the moments I spend blushing like an idiot at the ground because of his comment, Tanner apparently stands because now he's staring down at me. Close enough to almost touch.
"You are. You're so beautiful. I mean, look at yourself," He says quietly, timidly reaching and covering the hand clutching the towel. I look from it to Tanner, my eyes widening when I realize his purpose. He stares back at me, as if asking for permission that I'm honestly just not ready to give. I'm a sucker for morals and just honestly, I can't let this happen when I know the last person he saw in the position was probably Monica. It just doesn't feel right, so I put a hand over his and gently shake my head.
"No," I say, just loud enough for him to hear. "I cant. Not yet."
"Okay," he says, nodding, then kisses my forehead. "Text me when you're done, maybe we can watch a movie, I booked that room for 2 nights in case you were too mad to listen to me."
•
I don't know what I'm doing. I honestly dont. Sitting here on my bed, trying my best to write a couple paragraphs for my article with Tanner's head resting on my legs. A couple hours earlier, and I would've never thought that this moment could end up anything like this. But right now, it actually feels serene, like everything's alright for once.
We're-well, he's watching Iron Man, I'm not really paying attention. Honestly, my article is coming off relatively well. Given that I deleted a couple paragraphs from earlier after my anger got the best of me, most of it isn't truly bias. It's giving the full truth, that under the glamour and such, there is a different man under all that. No, I'm not mentioning our relationship or past, but I am saying he's different than I guessed. I, too, am one of them, the people blinded by the media so you can't see the actual real guy behind the flashes. And he's not such a bad guy.
"Hey babe? Doesn't Rhodey steal Tony's suit in Iron Man 2?" Tanner asks, turning on his back and starting to throw one of my old stressballs at the ceiling and catching it again.
I glance up. "mhm."
"And he didn't even get mad?"
"Well, yeah, but he kicked his butt in the fight at his party, obviously he didn't want to face him again," I say, backspacing a few times to delete a line I could reword better.
"Hm," He yawns, turning and pulling himself up to where I am, trying to peak at my screen. "How's it going?"
"Nuh uh uh, no peaking," I palm his face away and he moves it to the crook of my neck. "And it's going good. The conceited jerk topic is really working for me."
He laughs and kisses my neck, then up my jaw to my lips where he pauses. "I don't kiss people who call me a jerk."
"Aw, I'm sorry," I murmur, pushing a hand to pull his face toward me and pressing my lips to his. "Is it okay now?"
He kisses me again, smiling all the way. "Not just yet, might need a little more apologizing before I can forgive you."
