Page 1 of Loving Taylor
Chapter One
Ilay on my back. My head hurt, and my hand touched my forehead gently. It felt like an army of elephants marching through my head. I recalled the memories of the night before. It wasn't like I'd gotten drunk enough to make a mistake I would regret, I knew exactly what I'd been doing.
Movement beside me brought me back to the present as I opened an eye and took in the sight of a beautiful naked girl, barely covered with the sheet, curled up by my side. Remembering our night together made me feel empty inside. The fleeting closeness of sex was over and the hollowness in my chest tightened, reminding me of what I was still trying to outrun.
Girls in my life were like everything else: temporary, fleeting and disposable.
I stared at her for a few seconds, trying to recall her name, but all I could remember was that it started with a T. Was it Tracy or Tiffany? It didn't matter. The initial attraction and reprieve she'd held were gone. After this we would be strangers in the hall, barely acknowledging each other, which suited me just fine.
My attraction to the opposite sex didn't usually last long. One night was all I could offer. I'd dealt with enough situations to know I couldn't give more. If I wasn't up front it would lead to tears and hopes I couldn't live up to.
I swung my legs over and sat up. I needed space.
I'd been clear and up front when I had promised her sex with no strings attached. Most guys my age were shallow and sex-crazed but my issues went deeper than that. This wasn't something I was going to outgrow.
The girl in my bed sighed slightly in her sleep. I grabbed my jeans from beside the bed and pulled them on, wanting to escape before she woke up.
I needed coffee. My stomach grumbled slightly. And food.
Without a backward glance to my overnight guest, I left my room. The party we had thrown the night before had been wild. The living room downstairs was a mess. Discarded cups—some empty, some not—littered most of the surface area.
"You look like crap," Slater, my best friend, said as I walked to where he was casually leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.
He was tall and similarly built to me. I had dark blue eyes with short black hair and he had light blue eyes with light brown hair that was slightly longer. If we had similar hair coloring, we could probably pass for brothers.
We even shared a love for tattoos and piercings. He had an eyebrow ring. I had both ears pierced as well as my lip. He sported a tattoo sleeve like mine. Some tattoos were markings from our past to remind us of what we had overcome.
"So do you," I replied bluntly. He looked tired but I knew it wasn't the result of our party. He never got enough sleep. Demons from his past kept him awake at night. Mine kept me from finding solace in anything in my life.
He shrugged. "At least one of us got laid." He straightened up when I passed him into the kitchen.
"You had a girl ready to tear your clothes off last night," I reminded him as I got a mug and poured some coffee into it. "What happened?"
"She was too clingy," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
He shivered like it was something to be afraid of. And the truth was we were. We avoided girls who wanted more than one-night stands like the plague.
And virgins. It didn't matter if they understood and agreed with the rules of what a one-night stand entailed, I believed it was just in their genetic make-up to get emotionally attached to their first lover. It was just easier and less of a hassle to avoid them altogether.
We had enough to deal with without adding girls who had dreamy ideas of love and commitment to the mix. I knew I had issues about getting involved but I had nothing on Slater. He took it to a whole other level.
"You want coffee?" I asked.
"Nope. I've already had three."
"I don't know how you can function with such little sleep."
He shrugged. "I just do."
There was that familiar sadness in his eyes. It had been there for the last few years. I knew the reason why and it wasn't something that could be fixed. It was difficult to watch him wrestle with it and not be able to do anything about it. He only managed a few hours of sleep a night. It was his conscience that kept him awake in the middle of the night when he was alone with his thoughts.
I couldn't choose my family but I could pick my friends. Slater, I had picked. I trusted him more than I trusted anyone. He was more family to me than the people who shared my DNA. In our world trust didn't come easily. We had fought hard to get this far, getting a chance at a normal life with opportunities we hadn't had before.
Even if all of this came from him,I thought with some distaste, refusing to think of the man who hadn't wanted me. It opened the wound to the little boy inside of me who had desperately wanted a father. I shoved it aside, refusing to allow it to play on my mind. I tried to always live in the moment, refusing to remember the past or look to the future.
Footsteps and the arrival of our other roommate stopped any further talk of Slater's weird sleeping habits.
"Hi, guys," Eric said in greeting. I gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. I wasn't close to Eric at all. He was just another person who lived in the house with us. He was pretty quiet and kept to himself, which was fine with me. There was something about him that put me on edge, but I couldn't explain why.
