Page 37 of The Princess

Taylor found himself humming, shimmying his hips side to side as he worked. It earned him the side-eye from his dad once or twice, but he never asked Taylor why the good mood. Which he was thankful for. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell anyone, it was that he didn’t want to tell anyone yet. Right now, it still felt like there was nothing to tell.

Maybe Taylor was getting ahead of himself. There might never be anything to tell. He hadn’t even had his first official date with Nash. It all might go up in smoke, or go nowhere at all. But Taylor didn’t get that feeling. His gut instinct told him that this was a good thing. That they wanted him as much as he wanted them.

Taylor spied the clock. Josie would start their shift in half an hour and then Taylor could be out of there. He’d need to shower and check on his plants before heading over to Nash’s. But first he needed to tidy the kitchen. Taylor hated leaving a mess for the next person. Years ago, a guy named Big Joe worked the kitchen, and he made great food but he was a disaster to work after. In his mind, his job was to cook, not to clean. He’d never wash up any of the dishes or take the trash out. He just breezed in and out like a one-man wrecking crew.

Taylor’s shift ended during the lull between lunch and dinner. He made polite small talk with Josie while he did a load or two of dishes. He gave the floor a quick sweep before taking his apron off and tossing it in the laundry.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he grabbed the bag of trash and headed out the back door. All he could think about was getting home and ready for his date, and that’s probably why he almost missed the movement near the dumpster. It was located behind the diner along the back of the building. Taylor was used to seeing the odd cat or dog rummaging around looking for an easy meal, but the movement was larger than a dog.

Someone had been in the dumpster, Taylor realized when he saw the set of legs stop dangling in midair and hit the ground. Sneakers scraped on the pavement as they tried to bolt.

“Wait,” Taylor called out. “It’s okay. Wait, please. Are you hungry?”

With their back to him, they stopped. Their shoulders were high and tight and they looked like a spooked animal, all wound up and ready to flee. They didn’t move as Taylor slowly made his way forward. “It’s okay if you don’t want to come in the front, but if you wait here, I can go inside and grab you something real quick.”

The shoulders dropped a little.

“I’m Taylor. What’s your name?” he asked, inching closer.

The person turned their head, looking over their shoulder at him before turning the rest of the way around. A familiar face looked back at him. Taylor couldn’t quite come up with the name, but he was sure he’d gone to school with him. Taylor had been younger than him by a couple of grades, but he remembered everyone speculating what happened when he didn’t show up for graduation. By the following September, everything was forgotten. A new year meant whatever happened was old news.

“Taylor?”

“Yeah.” Taylor shuffled closer, then lifted the bag of trash and eased it into the dumpster. “Taylor Bennett. My dad owns this place.”

“I remember.”

“Got a name?”

“Mickey.”

Mickey Sharp, that was right. Track athlete. Golden boy. Smart as a whip, too. Just missed valedictorian. What had happened to him? And why was he eating out of their dumpster?

“You hungry? I can get you something.”

Mickey shook his head.

Taylor put his hands in his pockets. “Look, I know you’re hungry. It won’t take long to get you something.”

Mickey shuffled his foot, like he was moving something he didn’t want Taylor to see. A sleeping bag. Was Mickey sleeping out here?

“You got a place to stay the night? It’s supposed to get cold.”

“I should go. I didn’t?—”

“Wait, okay. Just…I don’t live far from here. How about you come up to my place and I’ll feed you where no one is going to see you, okay? I’ll shower while you do that, and then I have a date, and I’ll be gone a long time. With any luck, maybe all night. So if you wanted to just stay in somewhere warm tonight, I wouldn’t mind.”

Mickey furrowed his brow. His hair was long and dark and stringy from his rough existence. His face had a layer of stubble on it at least a few days thick.

“Come on,” Taylor coaxed him. “I’m just over there. The little piece of shit Honda.”

“You sure are trusting. What if I come over and rob you?”

Taylor laughed. “If you come with me, you’ll see why I’m not worried about that.”

Mickey looked torn. Like he wanted to, but couldn’t make himself.

“You’d be doing me a favor. Now that I’ve seen you out here, if you don’t come and at least get warm and fed, I’ll spend all night thinking about it instead of thinking about my smoking hot boyfriends.”

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