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Taylor wasn’t much of a drinker. A glass of wine, perhaps, or a gin and tonic if she was feeling adventurous—drinks that could and should, in her opinion, be sipped.
The lingering rancidity of the last drink Charlotte had foisted on her still coated her mouth. It had been a sugary, fizzy monstrosity they’d managed to make more unpleasant by dropping a shot glass of what appeared to be cough syrup into it.
To say it hadn't impressed Taylor would be an understatement. They’d wanted her to down it. Chances were, it would have come right back up if she’d tried.
She shrank back into her safe haven in the corner of the room. Her feelings about house parties were deteriorating by the second.
They’d crammed far too many sweaty bodies into one place. The clamor of slurred and shouted conversations pressed down on her, yet the music pierced its way through and bore itself deeper into her brain with each successive beat. And the less said about whatever was sticking her shoes to the ground, the better.
Why was this anybody's idea of fun?
And where was Charlotte? She was the only person Taylor knew here. Taylor only came along because Charlotte had encouraged her to do so. Apparently, in college, you were supposed to “redefine yourself” and “go wild”.
Who decided that was a necessary rite of passage? Redefine yourself, but only by fitting the stereotype.
Discovering yourself shouldn’t require you to conform to what others expect of you. Those weren't synonymous. In fact, they were frequently polar opposites.
What was this gaining her? Taylor already knew situations like this only made her uncomfortable.
Was she missing something everyone else saw—some critical piece of the puzzle that would make everything snap into place? She’d much rather be curled up in her room with a good book.
It probably wasn’t too late to go and do just that. Would anyone really miss her if she left?
Blond hair drew Taylor out of her musings as someone encroached on her corner hideaway. Her chance of escape slipped away. It had been inevitable someone would try to talk to her eventually.
The girl was saying something, her hands moving to emphasize certain parts as she spoke. Taylor didn’t hear a word of it. She was too enamored by the freckles that dusted the girl’s nose and cheeks. Maybe she could join some together to make little constellations. Was that a small sailboat she could make on her left cheekbone? And if she squinted, the cluster on the bridge of her nose could be mistaken for a cute floret of broccoli.
The possibilities were endless.
The tiny fox Taylor was mentally tracing blurred out of focus as the girl moved in closer. Taylor's gaze raised a fraction, and then she was drowning in green. It became harder to breathe.
“—kiss me.”
Taylor blinked, then shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You know, when two people smoosh their lips together,” the girl replied, as if that was the part Taylor was confused about. “That guy over there, the one looking this way, was being pushy earlier. So I lied and told him I came here with a girlfriend so he would back off, and I’ll be damned if I let him prove me wrong.”
Taylor spared a glance at the guy in question, who was currently giving her the evil eyes. She quickly looked away again and pretended she couldn’t still see him glaring in her peripheral vision. Weren't there some flaws in the girl's logic? "But... you didn't come here with me, and I'm not.... well, I'm not your girlfriend. So, how will this actually prove anything?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re completely missing the point here. Whether I lied or not is immaterial." She accompanied the word with a dismissive wave of the hand. "I just need the creep to not know what I said was incorrect. Hence the need for a stand-in girlfriend. So… congrats! You’re it.”
She gave a decisive bob of the head, as if Taylor had already agreed and everything made perfect sense. Taylor was out of her depth. This hadn’t been on any of the lists of small talk topics she'd looked at.
The girl’s arms moved to lazily loop around Taylor's neck, drawing her in closer. “Don’t worry about making it look convincing.” Taylor’s eyes were drawn to the girl’s lips as she spoke, studying how they formed each word. “Just a quick one, and he should get the message. Please?”
She stopped pulling the two of them together when she noticed Taylor had frozen, her eyes glazed and her lips slightly parted. “Shit, I’m sorry,” she began, leaning away. “It wasn't fair of me to drag you into this. I just hate it when—” She paused to collect her thoughts, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again. A tight smile. “Can we both agree to pretend this—”
Taylor closed the distance. Their noses bumped as she pressed their lips together, almost headbutting the other girl. After a stunned moment, the girl relaxed into Taylor, her eyes fluttering closed as she kissed back. The girl tilted her head to better align their faces and tightened her arms, drawing Taylor closer. Taylor had no idea what she was doing. She tried to mirror the other girl as their lips moved together, lightly gripping her hips to stop herself from floating away.
Their lips parted. They rested their foreheads together with their eyes still closed. Taylor's lips tingled as the girl's breath brushed across them.
“Wow, that was...” The girl's voice had dropped in pitch.
"Yeah," Taylor agreed breathlessly, her eyes drifting open.
“Do y—”
Raised voices cut her off as a couple bludgeoned their way through the room. Their heated argument fought against the music and was winning. People scrambled to get out the way. Taylor would die of embarrassment if she ever made a scene like that. They appeared to have no such reservations. The girl stormed ahead, with the guy chasing after, their hands gesticulating with no regard for anyone around them as they continued to bicker.
“Urgh, she has the worst timing,” the girl groaned, turning out of Taylor’s grip to watch the couple stampede in the direction of the front door.
Taylor’s fingers twitched as she fought the urge to grab her and pull her closer again.
“I’m really sorry,” the girl said, her voice still raspy. “I've got to deal with this. I promised to stop her from doing something she would later regret the next time this happened. My roommate has this whole weird mating ritual thing going on with her boyfriend where—”
A door slammed in the background. Both girls winced.
“Nevermind, I’ll have to tell you another time,” she said, before leaning in and giving Taylor a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for helping me out.”
She was gone as quickly as she had breezed into Taylor’s life. Taylor, in her dazed state, was left with one thought echoing through her head: There’s going to be another time.
She really hoped so.
The morning sounds of birdsong were interrupted by Taylor’s sneeze as she breathed in too deeply the smell of freshly cut grass. The sun remained low enough to not be suffocating but warm enough to provide a contrast to the breeze. Perfect for the walk into campus.
She cast a glance across at Emma, who was staring at her phone, able to weave around obstacles without looking up. Occasionally, she’d let out an amused snort. She’d tried showing Taylor the captioned images before, but Taylor never understood why they were funny.
Emma had eventually stopped showing her.
At least she had her friend all to herself this morning. Like things used to be.
Emma's new friends, Sophia and Madison, didn't start this early on a Friday. They weren't her kind of people. Everything was a competition or a way for them to one-up or belittle each other.
Even in everyday conversations: “You don't know any Bad Canary songs? What, have you been living under a rock?” or “You actually like the Maggie Holt movies? And not in an ironic way? Ew, you have no taste.”
That wasn’t what she wanted—someone jumping down her throat with every differing opinion or question about a topic she was unfamiliar with.
If you only wanted to talk to someone who shared your exact viewpoint on everything, you weren’t looking for a conversation; you were looking for an echo. Or should we instead resign ourselves to becoming mindless husks, sharing the same opinions, and liking the same things? Nothing but carbon copies of whatever someone arbitrarily deemed the norm?
And why would she bother asking a question if she already knew the answer? Questions asked in good faith should always be encouraged, never belittled.
It had gotten to the point that she tried to fade into the background when it wasn't just her and Emma.
Emma had been her best (and pretty much only) friend since they were toddlers, all the way through high school and now into college. When it was the two of them, they could fall back into their old rhythm, but each day, she felt their friendship drifting further away from what it once was.
It was only minor things: Inside jokes she didn't get; plans canceled; outings they went on without her. They were things she wouldn’t have wanted to do anyway, but it would have been nice to be asked. To feel included.
Emma had made room for new and exciting things, but Taylor still clung to the familiar. Clung to her. Unwilling to let go of that part of herself yet.
It was like they'd both picked the direction they wanted their lives to go, but instead of two parallel lines, they were at a slight angle to each other. The difference is unnoticeable at first as you continue along, until one day you look across, expecting to see your best friend next to you, and they're nothing but a speck in the distance. Unrecognizable as the person you once knew.
That was life, though. People and their relationships change over time. They evolve. And sometimes, they do so in the opposite direction from what you want. Gone not with a bang, but with a fizzle.
"You're doing that thing where you stare off into space with a constipated look again,” Emma said, poking Taylor in the arm.
"Sorry, just got some things rattling around my head." Her thinking face wasn’t that bad, was it?
"Anything in particular?"
There was no way she was ready for that particular conversation. Deflect!
"Someone kissed me last night," she blurted out instead. Emma came to a complete stop and turned to face her. Damn, she wasn't ready for that conversation either. "Well, err, I suppose it might be more accurate to, um, say I kissed her actually." Emma's eyes widened. "We kissed each other... mutually?"
Did that work? Freckles was the one who asked her first, but Taylor was the one to actually initiate it. Subconsciously, her fingers rose to brush her lips. Surely it was a team effort between the two of them. A duet, if you will. If there was credit going around, then—
"Did you like it?"
"Huh?"
Emma rolled her eyes, something she did often around Taylor. "The kiss. Did you like it?"
"Well… yeah."
"And you want to do it again?" she pressed.
Taylor bit her lower lip, looked at the ground, and nodded. Her hair fell across her face to form a curtain, shielding her from Emma’s scrutiny.
She hadn’t been able to get the girl from the night before out of her head. Like an ever-present hum. Sure, you might forget it's there, but then something draws your attention to it, and it's back in full force, impossible to consciously ignore.
“Huh, never thought I’d see the day. That’s great news, Tay."
Taylor mumbled something.
"Speak up, lover girl.”
Taylor sighed and raised her head to look at Emma. "What if I blow it?" Her eyes then wandered to the clock tower in the center of campus. "What if this is my one shot at romance and I do something stupid to mess it up?"
Emma stepped in front of her and grabbed her by the shoulders. Taylor's gaze returned to find her childhood friend staring back at her.
The one who was there for her when her mom died and her dad wasn’t able. The one who held her, muttering soothing words every time she burst into a snotty, blubbering mess. The one who, when she couldn’t sleep, would stay over and read to her in increasingly silly voices just to get her to smile again.
Taylor never told her it was Emma's presence, not the voices, that always made her smile.
Emma held eye contact as she spoke. "Then it goes wrong, and she's the one losing out in that scenario, not you. But hey, look, what if it goes right?” Her voice was gentle. “Wouldn’t you want that chance to find out?” The corner of her lip twitched. “You miss 100% of the slam dunks you don't homerun."
She nodded sagely and gave Taylor's shoulders a reassuring squeeze before turning around and continuing on their route.
Taylor’s brow creased. "I'm not sure that's how the saying—"
"Besides," Emma called over her shoulder, "if it all goes wrong, crazy cat lady is still a viable backup plan."
Taylor spluttered indignantly. "Hey!"
Emma's laughter filled the air as Taylor jogged to catch up. Taylor smiled.
Taylor exuded smugness as she walked out of her last class of the day and, by extension, the week, doing her best not to strut. Judging by the occasional glare she received from the students waiting to use the room next, she wasn't doing a particularly good job.
One of the few things she liked about her schedule: she finished early on Fridays.
If she was completely honest with herself, she might as well not have come in today. Most things had gone in one ear and immediately exited out the other. And when she went to the library to do some reading, she ended up staring at a single page and daydreaming for a solid hour and a half.
The entire day, her brain had been otherwise occupied.
I wonder if she’s thinking about me.
Probably not.
Besides, it hadn’t been a real kiss. It was just to get some guy to leave her alone.
Surely there were better ways to do that, though?
…It hadn’t really made sense to Taylor at the time, either.
Not that she was complaining about the method used, of course. Not in the slightest. In fact, it proved very effective. Maybe it could also work as a preventative measure rather than merely a reactive one? She would be more than willing to test that hypothesis.
For science, of course.
“Hey! You! Tall girl, wait up!” a voice called out.
Taylor slowed. Did they mean her? She did fit all the specified criteria.
The owner of the voice skipped around in front of her. It was the girl Freckles had chased after—blonde and athletic, with a smile that screamed extrovert.
“You’re the girl Lisa was talking to last night, right? The one who just kind of spaced out and stared at her?”
Lisa? Did she mean Freckles? She hadn’t spaced out, had she?
"Er, yeah, I guess," she said, her eyes already darting from side to side to plan her escape.
"Great! I thought it was you. You're pretty easy to spot, with your whole..." she trailed off and gestured up and down at Taylor.
Undeniably, being tall had its advantages. She could reach things off high shelves, she… Huh.
Anyway, it didn't bother her most of the time, though she did wish she didn't loom over most people quite so much. And it certainly didn't help when someone went right ahead and pointed it out.
The girl started rummaging through her bag. "I’m Vicky, by the way, don’t know if Lisa said.” She seemed oblivious to her faux pas. “Here, I can give you her number."
A phone emerged from the bag, and Vicky looked at Taylor expectantly.
"I'm sorry, I don't have a phone."
"Oh," Vicky said, leaning back slightly, her eyes blinking. She appeared stumped about how to respond.
Taylor decided to change the subject before the conversation veered into awkward territory, as it usually did whenever this topic came up.
“I’m sorry about you and your boyfriend, by the way, or ex-boyfriend now, I suppose.” Taylor winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Nice one, bring up her ex; that’ll be sure to keep the awkwardness to a minimum.
“Hm, oh? You mean Dean? Don’t worry about it,” she said, brushing off Taylor’s concern with a gesture. “We’re back together now anyways.”
It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours.
“Oh, then… congratulations?” Taylor hedged.
“Thanks!” Vicky chirped back before leaning forward and rooting Taylor to the spot with an assessing stare, her eyes narrowing. The moment stretched into uncomfortable territory, and Taylor started to fidget.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Vicky finally asked, her voice serious.
“Err, I was probably just gonna—”
“Wrong!” she cut Taylor off, causing her to flinch. “You’re meeting Lisa for coffee.”
“Eh?” Real articulate Taylor, Mom would've been proud.
“Look, I owe you both for interrupting your apparent, ahem, moment the other night. Sorry about that, by the way.” Vicky looked at the ground and scuffed her foot. “Lisa made her thoughts on that exceedingly clear. She can be pretty cutting with her words when she wants to, you know?” She looked around at the students who were funneling into the room. “Gotta dash, tomorrow at eleven at The Underside Cafe. Don’t be late!” And with that, she disappeared back into the crowd.
Well… That happened. Did she actually have any control over her life, or was her entire purpose to be bounced around at the whims of one person after another?
At least Freckles now had a name. Lisa. It was a pretty name. It flowed nicely with no plosive consonants and could be said with a pleasing lilt. It suited her.
And she apparently had a date with Lisa tomorrow. Was it a date? Vicky hadn’t said. Maybe she was just setting them up as friends. A friendship date? A…frate? Ugh, that was terrible.
Taylor looked around with embarrassment. Not for the first time, she was glad no one could hear her thoughts.
What did one even do on a date? It wasn’t like Taylor had much experience to draw from here.
Ah well, I’m sure the internet will provide a concise and accurate answer.
Her research had not been as fruitful as she’d hoped. There was no universal dating rulebook, it seemed. The only things people tended to agree on were to be yourself and to be confident.
Was that really a thing people could do? Was she missing a switch somewhere? “Ah yes, I see the problem right here—you forgot to leave your confidence in the ON position.” She might as well have turned off that social anxiety and dialed up her self-worth while she was at it. Gone for the full tune-up.
Taylor let out a sigh and peered through the window of The Underside Cafe. The aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted out the entrance.
It was a nice spot, fusing cozy and industrial together. Exposed brick walls, metal cross-beams, and the menu scrawled on a giant chalkboard. The seats were plush, and the tables were spaced apart, so it felt more peaceful than cramped. She could imagine herself wiling away an afternoon there with a book in hand.
She checked her watch; she was still five minutes early. What was the correct etiquette for one of these things? Did you go in and find a seat or wait outside?
“Relax. You worry too much,” Lisa said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the cafe entrance.
“Lisa?!”
“The one and only, at your service,” she said, throwing a quick smile over her shoulder as they made their way inside. “You have me at a disadvantage, though.”
Lisa had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. It swooshed hypnotically from side to side as she walked, revealing glimpses of the back of her neck. Oh my God, she has freckles there too.
Taylor stumbled as her thoughts ground to a halt and her palms began to sweat. Would Lisa notice? She hadn’t let go of her hand.
Wait… Had she asked her something?
“Oh! I am called Taylor Hebert.”
Taylor cringed. Why had she made it sound so wooden? A simple “Taylor” would have sufficed.
They were at the counter now.
“Well then, Taylor Hebert, what would you like to drink?”
They’d seated themselves opposite each other at one of the round coffee tables by the window. Lisa had insisted on paying for both of their drinks, citing “my parents may be assholes, but at least they’re rich assholes.” Taylor hadn’t quite known what to say to that.
Lisa’s drink of choice was a regular drip coffee, to which she’d asked them to add a shot of espresso before dousing it with enough sugar to give a dentist a stroke. Looking directly at it was like staring into the abyss… If the abyss had a disgusting acrid smell and a horrible oily surface, that was.
"Not a fan of coffee then?"
Taylor startled. "Sorry?" She hadn’t been monologuing out loud, had she?
"You've been glaring at my drink like it murdered your firstborn," Lisa said, giving Taylor an amused smile.
Ah, great start, Taylor. Keep looking like you're about to throw down with a liquid; she'll be yours in no time.
"It's—it's not to my taste," she answered diplomatically before taking a sip of the tea she’d ordered. A much more civilized drink, she thought.
Lisa adopted a mock-indignant look, sticking her nose in the air. "I'll have you know this is the lifeblood of professionals all over the world. The entire student ecosystem is propped up on the shoulders of this Goliath of a drink. Countless discoveries across hundreds of years, during late nights and early mornings, have been fueled by this wonderous concoction." By the end of her speech, Lisa was on her feet and cuddling the coffee to her chest, angled away from Taylor as if to protect it from her philistine ways.
"Meh," Taylor surmised.
Lisa let out a short laugh and sat back down, tilting her head to study Taylor. “You seem more comfortable here than you did at the party. I’m glad.”
Taylor grimaced. “Was it that obvious?”
“You looked like you were having about as much fun as I was. I came over to talk to you and see if we could share in our misery together, but you weren’t responding to any of my questions.” Okay, maybe she had spaced out a little. “And then the degenerate appeared again and I had to improvise, and well... I guess you know how that went.”
That was an understatement. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how it went—in exact detail. Her cheeks heated again at the reminder.
“If you don’t enjoy that kind of thing, why were you even there in the first place?” Taylor asked.
“Similar reason to you, I imagine,” Lisa said, taking a sip of her coffee before letting out a pleased hum. “I have a tendency to be a bit of a hermit. Spend most of my time in front of a computer screen. Vicky likes to try and get me out with her once in a while, and it’s usually easier to just go along with it—let her get it out of her system.” She leaned forward. "That, and I like people watching.”
“People watching?”
“Yeah, you know? When you observe someone doing their thing and try to deduce their life story. I’m really good at it.”
“Oh?” Taylor looked around. "Okay, what can you tell me about the girl over there?" she asked, nodding her head toward the girl in the corner wearing a heavy jacket with a fur collar.
Lisa glanced over at her. “Too easy. She had a rough childhood and ended up in the foster care system. Abrasive personality, so she struggled until a couple she clicked with took her in and officially adopted her. She’s more comfortable dealing with animals than humans.” Relatable, Taylor thought. “And she volunteers at the dog shelter on the weekends,” Lisa finished, looking at Taylor with a smug smile.
Taylor’s breath caught. She needed to direct that smile elsewhere. “Do him now,” she choked out, indicating the man walking past the window outside. He seemed to be in a hurry, wherever he was going. Lisa turned around to look, and Taylor could breathe again.
“Now we’re talking,” Lisa said before turning back to look at Taylor. “Professional getaway driver, and he’s done it all: bank robberies, prison breaks—you name it. But here’s the real kicker, his wife is a cop, and she has no idea. Thinks he's got some cushy office job. She’s actually come pretty close to catching him before now too.”
Taylor stared at Lisa for a second before scoffing. “You’re making this up.”
Lisa leaned back and spread her arms. “Just because you can't recognize greatness when it’s sitting in front of you doesn't mean it’s not there. “
Taylor recalled something Lisa had said at the party. "Okay then, Sherlock," she said, enunciating the name, causing Lisa to grin. “What have you managed to deduce about whatever's going on with Vicky and her boyfriend?”
“Ahh, touché Taylor. I may be a deductive genius”—Taylor rolled her eyes, a small smile slipping through—“but that is one mystery beyond even me. As best I can tell, it’s some weird technique to forever remain in the honeymoon period. I’m mainly just there for the copious amounts of post-breakup ice cream.”
Taylor snorted. This was nice—wonderful, even.
She still didn't know if it was a proper date or not. Emma and she had been for drinks loads of times like this, and those weren't dates. Right? What made this different? It's not like you gave a disclaimer at the start saying, “Just so you're aware, I'm going to be flirting with you on this outing, so prepare yourself for that.”
Damn, she wished that was a thing now. Like an interview or something. “What exactly is the nature of our relationship?” and “Where do you see us in five years?” No messing around; cut straight to the punchline.
That was a lie. She would rather have downed that entire disgusting cup of rocket fuel Lisa was drinking than willingly submit herself to an interview.
“What’s on your mind? C’mon, you can tell me. I promise I don’t bite.” Lisa winked.
“Is this a frate?” Taylor blurted.
“A frate?” Lisa’s nose scrunched up in an adorable way before realization entered her eyes, and she grinned. "Oh, you mean like a friendship date?”
Taylor nodded, mortified but unable to tear her eyes away from Lisa.
“Hmmm.” Lisa tapped a finger to her chin, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know. I suppose it could be mistaken for that so far.”
Taylor tried not to let the disappointment she felt from those words show, disguising it behind gulping down another sip of her tea.
“Although...” Lisa began, her smug smile returning.
Taylor would have done anything to keep her smiling like that. It was when Lisa was at her most Lisa.
“I think there is something that could make this more of a date...” she continued, leaning in closer, conspiratorially, like she had a secret to share that was for Taylor and Taylor alone.
“Yeah?” Taylor breathed, her gaze flicking down to Lisa’s lips before returning to her eyes. Lisa was close enough for her breath to ghost over Taylor’s lips as she spoke.
“Hey, Taylor…?”
“Hmm?”
“Kiss me.”
This time, she didn’t hesitate.