THE EIGHTH pt2

Seconds turn into minutes, and before I know it several hours have passed and I am shattered, my face aching from the forced smile I have attached to my face. Every now and again, I would catch sight of Taylor, but as soon as I would go to intercept him, another of Nonna's friends would grab my arm and would want to start reminiscing. Eventually, I manage to extricate myself and slip out the back door into the small courtyard garden. The light of the afternoon is fading, and the shadows offer a good place to hide for a few minutes.

"Thirsty?" Taylor's voice startles me. I spin around to find him standing right next to me, holding up a glass of juice. I take it gratefully as I am feeling parched from all the talking. The juice is delicious and cool, soothing my vocal cords. 

"Thanks, Taylor." I smile up at him, feeling shy but curious. "Um, why are you here?" I suddenly feel like I have to get to the bottom of what is going on. "Why did you come today? Why did you come to my flat last night? I thought you didn't want me…" I trail off, realising I have said far more than I should have.

Taylor suddenly looks serious, and I find myself taking a step back. "Oh, Abby. I can't seem to stay away from you…You beguile me with your innocence, and seeing you so lost this week, well, it is all I could do to stay away." He gives me a small smile. "I wasn't very successful." Taylor moves towards me, closing the gap between us, and I find my breath hitching as my heart starts to beat its rapid tattoo in my chest. Slowly he brings his hand up and cups my cheek. "You have been fading away this week, and I couldn't stand to see you going through this alone.”

I have no idea how to respond, so I stare at my feet, trying to think of something to say. Instead, Taylor tilts my chin up so that I am looking up into his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly. His serious tone is my undoing, and it is all I can do to stop myself from crying again. I take a shaky breath, trying to still myself.

"Truthfully…not really," I say in a quiet voice. I try to find the words to explain to him how I am feeling, but they just don't seem to be ready to surface. I don't know why I feel so comfortable with Taylor, but just being near him seems to calm me for the moment. My attraction to him has not gone away, but the events of the past week have pushed it to the side for a while. Taylor lowers his head and places his forehead on mine so our noses are touching. I am mesmerised by the dark, chocolaty pools of his eyes. Taylor gently strokes my cheek and murmurs, "Did you want to get out of here?"

Conflicting thoughts spill through my consciousness. I desperately want to be anywhere but here, but at the same time I don't feel like I can just walk out on my parents, today of all days. Despite this, I find myself nodding slowly. "Let me go talk to my folks," I whisper.

I am surprised when my parents simply nod and give me a kiss on my cheek. I can see the questions in their eyes as they appraise Taylor silently, but thankfully they don't say anything to embarrass me. I collect up my overnight bag—I had been planning on staying the night—and follow Taylor out to the car. We sit in silence, and soon the warmth of the car, the gentle rumble of the engine and the soothing music send me into a deep slumber.

I am woken up by Taylor brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. I try to assess whether I have completely embarrassed myself by dribbling down my chin by discreetly wiping my face. "We're here," Taylor says quietly. I glance out the window, taking in the sight of the chocolate box cottage in front of us, surrounded by a cute cottage garden.

"Where are we?" I ask, completely disorientated.

"My house. We're in the New Forest. I guess you could call it a 'country retreat'." Taylor says this with a wriggle of his eyebrows, and I try not to giggle as the sight in front of me seems completely at odds with Taylor's personality. Before I can say anything else, he comes round to my door, opening it like a proper gentleman and helping me to my feet. As he leads me down the garden path by the hand, it feels like I am coming home, which is completely weird as Taylor is pretty much a stranger and I am going to be completely alone with him in a remote spot.

I realise that the façade of the cottage is completely deceptive as we step through the front door. Polished wood floors extend through the open-plan ground floor, only interrupted by brightly coloured rugs. The cream walls are covered with muted abstracts mirroring the colours of the rugs. Across the building, I notice that the entire side wall is made up of bifold glass doors, which let the light in through the glass and must be lovely in the summer for folding back to bring the garden in. In one corner of the living area stands a wood-burning stove surrounded by a large corner sofa, while the whole of the right-hand side is taken up by a Shaker-style kitchen, complete with another state-of-the-art range cooker, which is set into a central island. 

"I think I have a serious case of kitchen envy," I sigh. 

"I had this put in a couple of years ago when I bought the cottage and had it renovated. The cottage was seriously dingy before I got it, but I love the light that comes in now."

"This place is gorgeous. Just the kind of place I would choose for myself. It's really homely."

"I am glad you like it. I tend to come here most weekends to get out of London. Plus I have my boat not far from here."

"You sail?"

"Yeah, I have a gaff rig that I like to potter about on when I have time."

"I have no idea what that means." My face must have shown my ignorance, and Taylor smiles.

"In simple terms, it is a boat with two masts. I'll show you sometime if you like."

This is the first time Taylor has mentioned anything about the future. "That would be lovely." Taylor moves across to the kitchen, and I follow behind, hopping up onto a stool at the island.

"Would you like something to drink?" Taylor asks, going across to the fridge.

"Hmm, any chance of something alcoholic?" After the day I have had, I feel like I need something stronger than juice.

Taylor smiles at me. "Of course. What's your poison?"

"Um, I am not a big wine drinker. Do you have any vodka?"

"I know just the thing." Taylor dives into the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of Zubrowka bison grass vodka, ginger ale and some cloudy apple juice. He grabs some ice and a cocktail shaker and starts pouring the various ingredients. He pulls a funny face while shaking the cocktail, pretending to be Tom Cruise, and then with a flourish pours the drink into a tall glass in front of me. I take a small sip, unsure of what I am letting myself in for. 

"That. Is. Amazing." The cocktail slides down my throat with ease, and I slowly start to relax. Taylor opens a bottle of beer for himself and starts pulling packages out of the fridge. "I hope you are hungry. Actually, have you even eaten at all today?" Taylor suddenly stops and fixes me with a stare.

A flush creeps up my face as I realise Taylor probably already knows the answer to his question. "Um, no. I just really wasn't hungry. Too many nerves," I add hurriedly, trying to justify myself.

"You aren't veggie, are you?" Taylor asks.

"Nope, pure carnivore, that's me." 

"Excellent. Relax for the moment and I'll cook us some dinner." I watch as Taylor starts pulling out some steak fillets from the paper packaging, places them on a wooden board and starts to season them. It's not long before some new potatoes are sautéing on the hob, fresh asparagus tips are frying in butter, and carrots sprinkled in honey and sesame are roasting in the oven.