Damaged (Damaged Series Book 1)

by J. Benson

  "Can I bug you for a bit?" I asked carefully.

  "Of course you can. You can bug me any time." He smiled, moving his books aside.

  I ran across the room and leapt into the bed next to him in the empty space. I stretched out on my back with my head on the pillow.

  Taylor grinned and moved onto his side. His arms moved around me. The fingers of his right hand brushed along my cheek and slowly turned my face to his.

  "Is this the kiss you owe me?" I inquired, dumbly.

  "I guess you can look at it that way." He murmured, his lips finding mine. My eyes fluttered closed and my lips parted in an effort to breathe properly.

  His lips danced over mine in the sweetest tango that left me desperate for more. I was finally able to move my hands again, and I speared my fingers into his shaggy blond hair. His right hand moved to my shoulder, and slowly down my side. I shivered slightly.

  I tried to focus on his kisses, trying to forget where his hands were, but just as I was able to make the distinction, his lips left mine. He smiled down at me gently. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah." I said quickly. "Fine. Why?"

  "You're holding your breath." He smirked, lopsidedly.

  "Sorry." I returned his smile.

  He lowered his chin back and placed kisses along the side of my throat. I lifted my chin to give him better access. I felt his fingers probe along my abdomen in the space between my tank top and my pajama bottoms.

  My breathing stopped entirely when his fingers slipped beneath my tank top. His hands didn't wander any further, but it still made me anxious.

  "Taylor?" I murmured.

  "Mmm-hmmm?" He murmured, moving against me. His lips wandered down to my shoulder.

  "Can I ask you a personal question?" I inquired.

  "You can ask me anything you like," He grinned and kissed my lips.

  I lost my nerve for about ten seconds until his lips moved to my shoulder. His kisses moved toward my chest, but never left modesty range.

  "Have you ever had sex?" I asked daringly.

  Taylor froze completely, not moving at all. I briefly wondered if he had an aneurysm.

  "Why do you ask that?" He murmured, pushing himself up with his hands. His body hovered over mine.

  "You can’t answer a question with another question." I responded, defensively.

  He sighed. "Yes. I have. But if I had known you would come along... if I had known that I would have found you, I would have waited."

  I nodded slowly. It seemed like such a generic response.

  "Have you?" He asked.

  "No." I responded earnestly. I assumed I should have been slightly more embarrassed to admit it so easily.

  He sighed. "I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't..."

  "Who?" I asked.

  He appeared shocked; his sparkling blue eyes were wide. His mouth opened and closed for a moment, as he chose his words carefully. "I don't think that's important..."

  "Who was it?" I pressed.

  Taylor sighed. "I really don't think that's important... Is it?"

  "Tell me. Who is it?" I continued.

  He pursed his lips, and the hesitation made me completely uncomfortable.

  "Taylor..." I pressed.

  "Paige." He admitted, at last.

  "Paige?!" I demanded in alarm.

  "It was a mistake, Emma. I never really cared about her, I mean it just happened. She's kind of slutty, she gives in so easily, and I mean..." He sighed. "It was a mistake. It should have never happened. And if I had known I was going to meet you and fall for you, I would have never... not even with a ten foot pole. Believe me; I would have waited a life time to find you." He protested.

  "When was the last time..." I trailed of, unable to finish my question.

  "Shortly after you came to school. A couple of weeks maybe. The night before I drove you home in the rain and you got really sick." He admitted. "But it didn't mean anything. I had gone there to tell her it was over for good and that I wanted to be with you... it just happened. I didn't want to, but before I knew what happened... it was an accident!"

  "An accident?!" I demanded. My mouth fell open and I felt very sick to my stomach. "Oh my God! Paige?"

  He sighed, "It was a mistake. She was a mistake-"

  "You said there was history between you... I didn't think you meant-"

  "Emma, it's all in the past. You have no idea how much I regret my history with Paige. I never could have known I would find you, I would have waited."

  "Anyone else I could have forgiven that... Anyone but her..."

  "Emma-" He began.

  "I think I'm going to be sick!" I cried, pushing his hands away. I moved out of his bed, pushing away from him.

  "Emma-" He began, the hurt evident in his voice.

  I ran from his room to mine, slamming my bedroom door. I ran straight into my private washroom and shut the door behind me. I turned over the lock, and sank down onto the cool ceramic tile.

  I was crazy about Taylor. But I wasn't sure I could handle having his hands on me after he had laid his hands all over her. Knowing he had touched her the same way and with the same tenderness as he had touched me was just too much for me to handle.

  Chapter 47:

  Breakfast

  It took me ages to fall asleep after the fight I initiated with Taylor. I tossed and turned for hours before falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Even still it was a light sleep, and full of unwelcome interruptions.

  When I woke, my whole body was stiff and aching, but I was welcomed by the most delicious smell wafting up from downstairs.

  I slipped out of bed and tip toed to my door. I inched the door open a few inches and tried to see out and over the railing to the lower floor. I couldn't see Taylor at all. I thought I should give myself a few minutes to find the exact words I needed to say.

  I showered, and folded my hair into a sloppy braid before changing into a soft pink button-down shirt and a pair of faded jeans. I took extra time to study my reflection in the mirror.

  I left an extra button undone at the top and wandered slowly down the stairs. I paused at the bottom and immediately located Taylor in the middle of the kitchen, whistling to himself. I watched him carefully to see if there was even a hint of residual anger or hurt, but I couldn't detect anything.

  I crossed the living room slowly, and slid into a barstool.

  "How do you like your eggs?" He asked, not looking up from the bacon he was sizzling in the pan.

  I paused, and of all the things I wanted to say, the only word that came out of my mouth was "Scrambled."

  "Okay." He nodded and crossed to the fridge. He removed a carton of eggs.

  I followed him with my eyes, and it was then I noticed the piece of paper stuck to the fridge with an alphabet magnet. It was a bright yellow E.

  I pushed myself up from the counter and crossed to the fridge, slipping the sheet of paper from the magnet.

  The note was written in my mother's prim and nearly perfect handwriting. I read it out-loud.

  "Emma--Sorry about not being there yesterday... I'll make it up to you later tonight with dinner. I'll call and make reservations at your favorite restaurant. I'll meet you both here, and we'll go together. Glad you got home okay, love mom."

  "She left you a note; that says something." Taylor tested.

  "We're leaving tomorrow, we came all this way, and I'm going to see her for a couple of hours tonight? And she'll probably pass out drunk. It's Saturday and she's at work. She's a dean... is the university even open on weekends?" I sighed.

  He placed two plates on the bar next to two sets of forks and knives. "Breakfast is ready."

  I sighed. "Thank you for making breakfast. You really didn't have to do this."

  He shrugged. "I wanted to. I thought maybe I could make things up to you..."

  I shook my head. "I doubt that breakfast will make up for you sleeping with the embodiment of evil." I grumbled.

  He sighed. "That's hardly
fair..."

  "Right, you slept with her because you were horny and desperate and because she's easy."

  He sighed again, but didn't respond.

  "I didn't mean that." I admitted. I suddenly felt petty. "I'm just upset. Of all the people... I mean... anyone. There are thousands of girls at that school. Why couldn't you have had sex with one of them? Hell, you could have had sex with all of them and I wouldn't have minded. But Paige..."

  "You don't mean that either. You're just angry with me." He spoke softly, leaning closer to his plate to eat much slower than usual. "Emma, if I could turn back time I would change it. I would wait completely just so I could be with you and prove to you how much I love you."

  The fork in my hand slid from my fingers; it clambered loudly to the floor.

  He turned with a mixed expression on his face which I couldn't read.

  "You... love... me?" I demanded, barely able to choke the words out. The words felt surreal and unbelievable. The words were coming out of my mouth, but it felt like they weren't even real.

  "You don't have to say it back." He amended quickly. "But I mean it."

  "It's only been a couple of weeks." I began, trying to sound rational.

  "I know..." He admitted. "If you're looking for an explanation, there isn't one. But I know how I feel."

  I bent and retrieved my fork from the floor.

  "You could say something...." He muttered.

  "Like what? You admit to me that you slept with someone so vile and so undeniably evil and then you drop a bombshell on me like telling me you love me? What am I supposed to say to that?" I asked in disbelief.

  "I don't know." He sighed. "I just hate that she keeps coming between us. I hate that she's always in the middle of our relationship."

  I picked at the food on my plate. "I'd rather not talk about this anymore."

  "Okay." He agreed.

  We ate in complete silence.

  "What do you want to do today?" He asked finally, shoveling some eggs into his mouth.

  I pursed my lips. I wasn't entirely sure if I could continue on as if the last twelve hours hadn't happened. "I don't know... Two streets over, there are a lot of shops. There's a little art gallery... We could explore a bit. I could show you around."

  "Alright." He smiled.

  We continued to eat in silence, keeping a carefully measured distance between us and entirely not touching. I picked at my breakfast; I wasn't feeling very hungry any way.

  He stood to take his plate to the sink. He turned on the faucet and reached for the dish soap.

  "Don't. I'll do the dishes." I followed him to my feet.

  "Alright, fine." He held up his hands. He walked from the kitchen and I sighed to myself. I turned on the tap and rinsed off both plates, spooning the rest of my breakfast into the trash. It was fantastic, but I couldn't eat it. I didn't feel right.

  I loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and pressed the button labeled 'on'.

  I stood with my hands on my hips for a moment, trying to consider the proper thing to say to Taylor. I was interrupted by a soft plinking of the piano in the living room. In confusion, I followed the sound. I wandered from the kitchen into the main room.

  Taylor was sitting with his back to me, hunched slightly over the piano.

  I approached slowly and carefully as not to disturb him. No one had played the piano in years; I was surprised it was even still in tune. I couldn't even remember when we had gotten the piano; since no one in my family knew how to play it, aside from my grandmother.

  "I didn't know you could play." I blurted out.

  He nodded, distractedly. "I took lessons until I was twelve." He admitted. "Classical mostly."

  "Do you write your own stuff?" I slipped onto the bench next to him.

  "Uh... yeah. I'm not very good. I just kind of dabble in writing music. Do you want to hear something?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  He smiled, and started playing. After several bars of the song, he slowed it down considerably.

  "It's beautiful." I smiled.

  "It has lyrics too."

  "Yeah? Do I get to hear those too?"

  "Of course." He cleared his throat and started to sing softly. As the song picked up and the notes became more complex, the lyrics became softer and sweeter. His voice was beautiful, smooth and sweet. I felt all of my anger and frustration start to dissipate.

  I smiled broadly and listened to the rest of the song. He finished with an exaggerated flourish.

  "It's beautiful." I breathed. "Your voice is wonderful."

  "I wrote it for you." He replied, staring at his hands on the keys. "It's called "Runaway". I wrote it when I first realized I had a crush on you." He admitted sheepishly.

  I smiled. "It's beautiful.... Do you... do that a lot? Write songs, I mean..." I asked carefully, fully aware that I was starting to sound like a bumbling idiot.

  "No. But I've never liked anyone as much as I like you." He admitted.

  I smiled at him, feeling like a giddy idiot who couldn't string two words together.

  "Come on, we should get going if we're going to explore a little." He smiled, standing. "I already showered, and everything, so I'm pretty much ready to go when you are."

  He held out his hand and helped me around the bench.

  We left the apartment, and took the elevator down to the main floor. We walked out into the cold winter weather. It wasn't nearly as cold outside as it was back in Oklahoma. And there was hardly any snow left on the ground.

  We wandered down the street, and before we reached the end of the block, he reached over and took my hand gently in his.

  I looked up at him in shock.

  "This is okay, isn't it?" He worried. "I mean, I know you're mad at me..."

  I drew in a deep breath. "That fight that we had last night... It was kind of silly. I mean, I realize that I can't very well control your romantic history... I can't control who you've dated in the past, let alone who you've slept with." I sighed. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at her. I just... I just wish it wasn't her."

  "Me too." He admitted.

  I chewed my lip anxiously. "I'm sorry for yelling at you..."

  "It's alright." He smiled. "I would have yelled at me too." He smirked.

  I laughed softly.

  "Are we okay now? For real?" He asked.

  I smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we're good."

  "Great." He leaned over suddenly and kissed me. "I've been waiting to do that all morning." He admitted.

  I laughed softly, shaking my head. I could feel a bright blush rising in my cheeks.

  While wandering down the street looking for interesting shops to slip into, we spotted a Starbucks which smelled far too appetizing to pass by. I was dying for a hot drink to warm me up a little, and Taylor seemed eager to go inside.

  "Come on," Taylor smiled, my arm tucked securely in his. "I'll treat."

  We crossed the street, jogging between cars. Once we reached the other side, I managed to find the only patch of dry ice and slipped hazardously. His arms immediately circled my body, hoisting me upright and away from the ice.

  "Oh!" I cried.

  "Are you alright?" He worried; his arms still around me firmly.

  "Thank you." I smiled. "I'm just clumsy, I guess."

  "It's fine." He grinned, leaning down and lightly pressing a kiss to my numb cheek.

  I smiled up at him as his arm tucked around my waist securely. It was so hard to stay mad at him when he was so adorable.

  He held open the door for me, and I slipped inside. It was already too warm inside. I loosened my scarf as I squinted at the board, trying to make up my mind as to what I was going to order.

  "What are you in the mood for?" He smiled, appearing at my side. "Coffee today?"

  "Hmm... I think... hot chocolate?" I asked, returning his smile.

  "Sure. That sounds good, I think. I'm going to order one too." He agreed.

  We stood in the line-up, waiting patiently in a q
ueue that was unbearably long. He moved aside to let someone pass on their way toward a table, and Taylor's arms snaked around my waist from behind me. He rested his chin on my shoulder, and pulled me against his chest.

  I sighed contentedly, relishing in the feeling of safety and comfort return.

  "Emma?" He asked softly. His soft voice in my ear sent shivers down my spine. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Of course.” I tried to turn.

  "Who are those people over there any why are they staring at us?" He murmured.

  "What?" I demanded in alarm. "Where?"

  "Two o'clock." He replied.

  I turned my head, but couldn't see anyone other than an old man frowning at a copy of the newspaper.

  "The other two o'clock." He supplied.

  "Oh." I replied, turning in the opposite direction.

  I sighed and turned to face forward. I didn't need to take a long glance to recognize the people sitting at a crowded table in the corner of the room and staring at us. They were huddled together chatting and giggling.

  "Bitches from high school." I responded. "I mean my old high school. The one nearby..." I added slowly.

  "Why are they looking at us like that? Did they hate you? Do you hate them?" He inquired.

  "No," I replied, swallowing hard. My brow furrowed. "Actually, the opposite. They used to be my best friends."

  "Should we go over to them?" He offered. "You could introduce me... Say hello..."

  "No!" I hissed. "We can't."

  These were the people who had shut me out when I couldn't tell them about my father being sick. These were the people who basically exiled me when they thought I was keeping secrets from them. And when they did find out the truth about what was going on in my family, none of them had the decency to show up at the funeral. None of them had tried to contact me, even though I wasn't going to school or spending time in the regular hang outs. These people were no longer my friends.

  "Okay." He smiled. "Maybe we should give them something to really look at?" I could practically hear the grin in his voice.

  I turned in his arms and moved my arms slowly around his neck. "And just how do we intend to do that?" I asked coyly.

  He smirked wickedly and leaned toward me. He moved his nose from the corner of my jaw along to my chin. I bit my lower lip, eagerly waiting. He grinned and leaned forward to bring his lips to mine.