And that was how I found myself meandering through a nearly empty Walmart in Winnipeg on a Saturday night with Taylor Hudson.
We had only come out for chocolate chips, but on the drive over I got a text from my mom asking for a carton of chicken stock. She had just gone to No Frills the day before, and I don't know why she didn't get it then, but it made no difference to me.
I told Taylor on our walk from the parking lot to the store entrance. To my surprise, he grabbed a cart. I would have opted for a basket, seeing as we only needed two things, but as long as he was going to push it, I wouldn't object.
Two minutes upon entering Winnipeg's finest Walmart, a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips and Campbell's chicken stock and nothing else, sat in the cart.
"Was that as bad for you as it was for me?"
Taylor, who was leaning over the handle of the cart and pushing it lazily, looked up at me.
"Are you talking about dinner, with your family?" he asked.
No. I'm talking about Zayn leaving One Direction.
I nodded.
"No, it was great. Your family is awesome."
His eyebrows were furrowed and although I had only known Taylor to be genuine, the sincerity in his words still warmed my insides.
I wasn't sure what that gooey feeling meant, but I did know that it meant a lot to me that Taylor liked my family. Probably because I saw my family as a direct reflection of myself and would personally take offense at any offense directed towards a family member. I had always been that way. When I was younger and overvalued the opinions of others, I used to get mad at my parents and brother when they fought with someone, because it hurt me so much that someone would get mad at them.
Now, I just told those people to 'bite me' in my head.
After I cried, of course.
"I'm so glad," I said, as we walked down the aisle with the pretzels, popcorns, and chips. "Because I know my dad was acting a little weird, I mean he usually does, but in a chatty way, and my brother was cringey on so many levels..."
Taylor laughed. He stopped to pick up a bag of white cheddar popcorn. A man after my own heart.
"Camille, I had fun. Stop worrying. I could tell how much your family loves you, even your brother, who seems to exist to bug you." He scanned the nutrition facts. "Yeah, I can't eat that," he mumbled, putting the bag down.
"That's a shame. It's my favourite."
"Really?"
"Mmm hmm." This brand's popcorn was the fluffiest and the cheesiest and the smoothest. I would know; I had tried a lot of brands.
"Okay," Taylor said simply.
And he proceeded to toss a bag of the Smartfood into the cart.
"What's that for? You said yourself you can't have it."
"It's not for me. It's for you."
Well, I certainly wasn't going to be rude and argue with him. In the cart the bag stayed.
"And I hope you enjoyed dinner. My mom made it, I can't take credit," I said as we turned the corner into the next aisle.
We were literally just going up and down the aisles. There was no rhyme or reason to the journey and it was magical.
"It was delicious. No one in my family really makes lasagna so I've only ever had it a restaurant a few times. This was the best lasagna I've ever had."
"I know. You told her that at the table."
"And I meant it."
I could've fallen in love with Taylor right then when he said that to my mom. I was incredibly protective of my mother, for so many reasons. She was small and wore sweatpants at all times except when she went to work. She loved her kids more than anything and I was certain we were connected on a spiritual level.
My heart beat for my mom.
"What's wrong?" Taylor asked softly.
What? I looked around, making sure there wasn't a fire around me. Nothing was wrong, at least I didn't think so.
"You just looked a little sad there for a minute," he said, answering my thoughts. He was getting good at that. "What were you thinking about, just then?"
"Oh, just my mom." My voice couldn't have been above a whisper. I was worried that if the volume was any louder, I wouldn't be able to stop the emotion from slipping into it. And out of my eyes.
"What about her? Is she okay?" Taylor asked, concerned, slowing his steps as we walked down the cracker and soup aisle.
I nodded. She was okay. She had to be. I didn't know what I'd do if she wasn't.
"Just that I love her and my family more than anything else in the world. I miss them when I'm in class, and I can't believe that I'm considering moving away to grad school." I shook my head, trying to get rid of these feelings. "I'm sorry. I must sound like a broken record, talking about that every time we're hanging out."
Taylor swallowed, blinked his eyes slowly, and shook his head.
"Don't ever apologize for saying what's on your mind. At least not with me. This is what's going on in your life right now, and it's a big deal. It makes sense that you'd want to talk about it. Do I bother you with how much I talk about hockey?"
I shook my head. Damn. He had a point.
He also gave me a lifeline, whether he meant to or not. Speaking of hockey...
"Someone scored their first NHL goal last week," I said, smiling.
Taylor gave me a look. Yes, I was changing the subject. Yes, I will change it back if he makes me talk about emotional shit.
"Yeah, someone did. You were watching?"
Okay. What do I say here? Decisions, decisions. Do I be honest and admit that I watch every game of his, minus the ones that are too late because of time zones? Do I admit that what used to be an activity that I'd do mainly to spend time with my dad has become my favourite part of the day?
Or do I lie and say I heard it on the news? Believe it or not, I saw that the local paper did have an article about that game.
Someoneâand I don't think that anyone knows who that someone wasâsaid that honesty is the best policy. Whatever, I'm sure that's true. I just knew that there was no point for me to pretend I was cool, when I spent the majority of my life not caring about that.
"Yeah, I was watching. I watch all your games."
Please don't look freaked out. Please don't look freaked out.
He didn't look freaked out! He seemed... flattered. A light pink coloured his tanned cheeks and he shot me the goofiest toothy grin.
"You don't say?" he teased, his voice higher pitched than normal.
"Oh, please," I said, playfully jabbing him in the side.
God, he was rock hard. That's what she thought.
"Don't let that go to your head. What else am I supposed to do on Tuesday and Thursday nights? Okay, and Saturday nights for that matter?"
That earned me one of the signature Taylor Hudson laughs, the ones that make me want to do one of those Irish jumps where you jump and click your heels together.
"Oh, come on! How could I not be flattered? You choose to watch me play hockey over studying. I think that's the greatest compliment anyone could ever give me."
Jackass.
"Do you have any advice for me?" he joked.
"Sometimes you hold on to the puck for too long in the offensive zone," I said, just saying the first thing that came to mind.
Taylor stopped pushing the cart. I looked around. We were now in the candy aisle. Goody.
"What? Why'd you stop?"
He was giving me this look like... I don't know how to describe it. Like he was in awe?
"My coach said the exact same thing to me in practice yesterday."
Okay, I'll admit. I felt boosted in that moment. For me, being right was a high like none other.
"You do a good job of keeping possession, but it looks like you're trying to find the perfect shot, but that moment doesn't come," I continued. "Did your coach also tell you that?"
The side of Taylor's mouth twitched. "Kind of. He told me to shoot the f'ing puck."
I laughed. "Sure, in those words exactly."
I didn't say anything else and watched as Taylor turned toward the wall of candy. He stood upright for a few seconds, scanned the wall of colourful and delicious sugarâlikely looking for a particular confectionâand then bent over.
I didn't want to think it, I really didn't. But in many ways, attraction is more of a feeling than a thought, so I couldn't help it. Taylor Hudson had one hell of a bubble butt.
"What are you getting?" I asked.
"These," he said as he turned around, holding a familiar white and red package.
"Oh, those are my favourite!"
"I know," Taylor said.
He tossed the superfruit-flavoured gummies into the cart.
"We had them at Angela's dorm when we were watching the game, remember?" he asked.
Uh, yeah, I did. I couldn't believe he did as well, though.
"I have a confession to make," Taylor said, looking sheepish.
Oh god. What could it be? My mind took it as a game, a challenge of sorts. Think of the worst possible scenarios. Was he about to admit that he had thought I was a loser that night? Or that he wanted to leave earlier but felt bad for me?
Thankfully, he didn't say either of those things.
"I've bought these candies before, for myself, after that night. I like them. They make me think of you."
Oh my.
Just oh. My.
"That's probably the sweetest thing someone has ever said to me," I admitted.
Oh wait...
"I swear I didn't mean the pun!"
"Sure, you didn't," Taylor said, rolling his eyes.
As I was about to open my mouth to fight for my honour, my phone pinged. I pulled it out from where it was buried in my coat pocket.
Thomas: Get salt and vinegar chips, please. Jack and Max want them.
Camille: Jack and Max, huh?
I shoved my phone back into my pocket, not even bothering to wait for his reply. That was totally something my brother would do. Say his favourite snack was for his sons to make me more likely to buy it. He should have known I'd get them anyways. We had intense junk food cravings in common and I just couldn't let his go on, no matter how nuts he drives me sometimes.
"Follow me. We have to go back to the chip aisle."
And now our cart held our original two items plus popcorn, chips, and candy. All the essentials, really.
"As much fun as I've had walking around with you, and I do mean that, I think we should check-out now. Or else it'll be too late for me to make the cookies for the kids."
Taylor nodded and pushed the cart back to the front.
"I like this Walmart," he said suddenly.
I looked over at him. "Really?" I did too, actually, not that I admitted that. This store reminds me of Christmas, and the excitement I'd get when shopping with my mother when I was younger, buying toys and treats for the holidays. I'm not sure why that's my most salient memory, because we come here all year round.
"Yeah. I haven't gone to too many Walmarts back home because American Walmarts tend to get a bad reputation. But this one isn't too bad at all." He looked around appreciatively.
"I know what you mean. I've watched a few of those 'Sketchy People of Walmart' videos on YouTube," I admitted.
I actually don't like them, but I found them when I was searching for comedy videos on a study break two semesters ago. Judging others for fun is a sad excuse for comedy, so I turned them off within a few minutes.
"And here, we're probably the sketchiest ones," Taylor murmured.
"Hey!"
"No seriously, I feel like people are looking at us," he said, glancing around us discreetly.
Truthfully, I had kind of blocked anyone who wasn't Taylor and anything that wasn't tasty and edible out of my mind. But when I did look around, I saw what Taylor meant. I looked back at him.
"They're probably wondering why we got a cart if we were only going to buy a few things."
"Hilarious."
Yeah, yeah, I know.
"But seriously, I wonder if they recognize you. Because you wear a helmet to play, it's harder for them to tell, probably."
Taylor shrugged. He put our items on to the conveyor belt. "That's possible, I guess."
I took my wallet out of my purse.
"Oh no, Camille. Put that back please. These are my treat."
"Treating my mom to chicken stock? That's ridiculous. Let me pay."
Grr. I blew it there. I didn't need to ask him for permission, dammit!
"Well, it's only fair since she made me dinner."
"Yeah, because I invited you."
Taylor sighed. In that moment he seemed older than me. It was a little scary.
"Camille, I don't have family here in Canada. And you just opened up yours to me. There's like, five things here. I just want to treat you."
I gave up. White flag was out and dancing over my head.
"Fine."
"You could at least say 'thank you'," he muttered.
The little...if I stomped on his foot, would it do damage?
Our items were scanned and paid for in no time. When we stepped back outside, it was significantly darker. And chillier. I had left my house with my coat, gloves, and hat because I tended to run cold, but even I felt the dip in temperature.
"Please tell me this is the coldest it gets," Taylor said as he sped walked to his Jeep.
"I could tell you that, but it'd be a lie."
Taylor cursed as his cold fingers fumbled his keys. Once I heard the car door unlock, I threw myself into the passenger seat for relief, but it wasn't much warmer in there.
"Don't worry, I'll turn the heater on."
"Thanks."
I stuck my hands out in front of the vents to soak up as much warmth as I could.
"Your hands are so little," Taylor commented. "So cute."
My stomach did that oh-so-pleasant flip.
Damn. My body was desperate for compliments and attention. He didn't call me the most beautiful girl in the world but it was affectionate and it came from Taylor. Hence the flip.
"Do you mind some music?" Taylor asked. There was a mysterious blush to his cheeks.
Probably the cold.
"No, go ahead."
And so we drove home in the dark with soft folk music filling the Jeep. I felt at such peace that I couldn't believe I was someone who struggled with anxiety.
As we turned on to my street, I got a text from Angela, just asking how I was doing. I'd respond later.
"How's Lawson been?" I asked suddenly. "Angela seems pretty happy lately."
"That's good. But actually I don't know how he's been. I haven't spoken to him since last week."
"Really? I thought you guys hung out a lot."
Taylor shrugged. "Well, I see him quite a bit, I guess. But that's because spending time with the team and interviewing the players is part of his course."
"Huh. I thought you guys were close friends."
Taylor turned into my driveway. He pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. There was a slight sliver of moonlight coming through the windshield and hitting his face.
That should've been the first cue that this would be a moment I wouldn't forget.
"Camille, you're my closest friend here."
Oh my gosh.
I felt floored.
My lips parted but no words came out.
Maybe all the important words had already been said.
Even though it was pitch black and growing colder by the second we continued to sit there having A Moment.
As in slow motion I saw a swallow travel through Taylor's throat and saw his eyes cast downwards toward my face.
In the back of my mind I wondered how he could move when I felt frozen.
And then my phone beeped. Stupid thing. I hardly ever got messages.
Thomas: I see you guys in the driveway. Why aren't you getting out?
"Everything okay?" Taylor asked softly.
"Yeah, just my brother busting my chops," I muttered. "Wondering why we're not inside yet."
I typed out a quick reply. I could be sassy with my brother over text messages because there are no kids around to overhear.
Me: We're fucking.
Just as I hit send, Taylor's elbow bumped into the horn, scaring the hell out of me.
Jesus. My phone tumbled out of my hands. I waited for my heart to stop racing before I made a move to grab my phone, which had landed face up near Taylor's feet. Even though my mind was screaming protests, he leaned down to pick it up and I watchedâin horrorâthe exact moment he saw the message.
His eyes snapped to mine.
Shit.
"I...uh...it was a joke. He's not going to believe that. Sorry," I stammered.
Taylor just stared. Great, now he for sure thinks I'm a lunatic. Actually, I had been doing well to go this long without making him think that.
I got out of the car and walked toward the stone path on our lawn. I heard the soft thud of Taylor's door closing and a few moments later, I felt his body behind me. My walking slowed to a snail's pace.
His whisper hit my ear, warm yet chill inducing.
"You're right. He won't believe that. There's not enough room in that Jeep to do it properly."