COMPLETED. A university student. A professional hockey player. They've proved they can be friends. Can they be more?
Although they're both in their early twenties and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, their lives couldn't be more different. Cami...
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I'm not what many would call verbose. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm as textbook of an introvert as you can get. But usually, when I'm not saying much, I still have things to contribute, but I choose not to because I'm shy or afraid of being judged.
Yeah, this was not one of those moments.
For the love of god's green earth, I had no idea what to say, what I was thinking.
He wanted to come in?
What the hell?
He's lucky I recognized him from every sports channel on cable TV and from the time I met him outside the Modar Centre the other week. That made the situation slightly less confusing and awkward.
Slightly.
Taylor Hudson continued to look at me with a hopeful expression on his face. Looking at him was sure to strain my neck. Was I shorter than average or he was he taller than average? Considering I was somewhere between five and five-two and he was probably over six feet, I'd say it's a bit of both.
I watched as his expression morphed into one of hesitation.
Right. He was waiting for a response.
What the hell was I supposed to say? Pretty much every organ in my body was telling me to tell him to hit the road; that no, he certainly cannot come into Angela's room. Because who the hell asks that? But there was a small but annoying part of me—let's call it the appendix—that reminded me that I never could say no to people. (And no, that doesn't apply to when guys ask for sex, because that hasn't happened to me yet.)
The appendix won the battle.
I nodded. "Yeah, you can come in, I guess."
My voice sounded like giants went to prom on my vocal cords.
If Taylor thought that was odd, he didn't show it. Instead, he took a step into Angela's dorm room, causing me to falter.
My arms crossed the top of my chest defensively. I wasn't even wearing a real bra, for crying out loud. It was one of those cotton, cupless things that my chest was small enough to get away with. Still, I had nipples to worry about. My black t-shirt was thin, so as discreetly as possible I grabbed my pullover from where I had discarded it on Ang's dresser and pulled it over my head.
"I'm sorry for just inviting myself in like this," Taylor said.
He was standing there like he owned the entire campus and didn't just step foot onto it. If confidence could be both loud and quiet at the same time, it would be Taylor Hudson. His voice was raspy yet soft. He seemed skimpy with words—like I was—and I wanted to hear him talk more. He had the aura about him like the most entertaining spectacle could be going on the stage in front of you, yet you'd choose to watch him just stand at the back of the auditorium.
With his chin, Taylor motioned to the TV. "I couldn't help but notice the TV in the background and saw the game. I thought maybe you could use some company watching it, if you want."
