"You okay with me sitting in the front?" I asked Taylor as he opened the door on the driver's side of the black Jeep.
Franklin the little weasel had beat me to the back seats. I didn't want to join him in the back in fear of offending the car owner or treating him like he was our taxi driver. But, if Taylor had something against someone sitting in the passenger side of the vehicle, well then, who was I to go against that?
He didn't, though.
"Yeah, of course, make yourself at home," Taylor said. He slid into his seat and the sound of the door closing echoed in the quiet parking lot.
I grumbled something that I hoped at least resembled a "thank you" as I maneuvered my body into the vehicle. What did I have against sitting next to Taylor, anyways? It wasn't like he had some contagious disease. At least I hoped he didn't.
Actually, it wasn't just Taylor. Cars always had a way of coaxing out my social anxiety. I attributed the fear to the fact that being cooped up in a relatively small space with hardly any distractions meant that conversation was the only natural thing to do.
Except, most days, it felt like conversation was the thing that came least naturally to me.
"So, Franklin, where am I taking you?" Taylor asked.
His eyes flashed to the rear-view mirror to make eye contact with Franklin, I assumed.
"I live in a basement of a house near campus. It's not too far from here. Go straight and then make a right on Bremnar."
"You got it."
As Taylor pulled out of the theatre's lot, I took off my hat and smoothed my hair back down. Whenever there was a stop sign or a red light, I felt Taylor's eyes on me.
"How are your classes going this semester?" I asked Franklin.
My intention was to take the attention of the vehicle's patrons off myself, and I hoped that Franklin didn't mind getting grilled in the process.
"They're okay, so far. I've been wasting too much time watching anime again, like I always do. And I know I'm going to regret it next week when I have my first midterm."
"I know. Minimizing distractions is always a struggle," I lied.
What else was I supposed to say? That I don't let anything stand in the way of my study schedule? That I have the focus of a fox and the eye of a tiger when it came to school?
Taylor let out a small, strangled sound and my head whipped to look at his face, which I had been trying not to do too much. His expression was a lazy, yet critical, smile. Like he didn't believe me.
"What are you studying?" Taylor asked.
"Are you asking me or Camille?" Franklin said.
"Both, I guess."
"We're both psychology majors." I answered on our behalf.
Taylor nodded. "I can see that."
"Really?" Colour me intrigued. "On what basis?"
He laughed. "Okay, I'll be honest. I don't know anything about that, uh,... subject, but it sounds as smart as anything a university could offer."
Huh. Sometimes I took my university-world bubble for granted. I thought the world knew what a psychology major was. In fact, that's one of its most common criticism, that it's too common. But when you really think about it, a lot of what students and professors dedicate their careers toâand in some cases, their livesâprobably doesn't matter to the general public. It's a scary and isolating thought.
"You're not a student? What do you do?"
This time I angled my body directly to Taylor, giving no shits about how obvious I was being. I was much more interested in how he would respond to Franklin's question, and I wanted the full experience.
"I'm a hockey player," he answered nonchalantly.
He kept his eyes on the road, like any good driver would, but he didn't move them an iota, like any driver who was trying to deflect attention would.
"For the school team?"
God bless Franklin. He did say he watched anime, and not sports.
"Uh, no. I'm actually trying to be a professional hockey player. So, no school for me, which is a good thing, I think. I don't think I'm capable of studying as hard as you guys."
With my gaze still locked on Taylor's eyes, which were still watching the road, I didn't even bother trying to hide my interest. Taylor freaking Hudson went first overall. But did he mention that? No. Instead, he said that he's trying to be a professional. To boot, he complimented us, the mere mortals trying to get a university degree. I hoped he realized that in that moment, he was the definition of humble.
"That's awesome! I don't know too much about hockey, to be honest, though," Franklin admitted.
My lips mashed together to hide my smile. I didn't need to be Sherlock to figure that one out.
"Oh, I do," I piped up. "I've sort of grown up around the game, with my brother playing recreationally when he was young and my father being a die hard fan his whole life. I know I'm biased, but I think it's the greatest game in the world. The talent it takes is incredible. It's like three sports at once. You have to skateâfast and well. And you need to be coordinated. I could never be a hockey player."
Well, that little speech certainly shut the car up for a little bit.
That was probably the longest continuous stretch of speaking I've ever done in Taylor's presence. Hell, maybe even in Franklin's as well. I typically preferred to let others do the talking, but when there was something I felt needed to be said, like letting Taylor know that he is certainly no less of a success because he's not getting a degree, I went straight for the kill.
I could feel the heat pooling in my cheeks. I could never be a character in one of Shakespeare's plays. Monologues were certainly not my thing. Cautiously, I peeked to the side to look at Taylor.
He was doing the same.
The air in the Jeep felt thick, suddenly, and warm.
Oh boy.
"Yeah, I agree," Taylor said softly. "I think it's the best sport in the world as well."
"I'll have to watch it some time," Franklin said, oblivious to what could have been a mini-moment between Taylor and I. "You two have convinced me."
"Well, I can't guarantee that you'll enjoy it," Taylor said, his attention back on the road in front of him. "But I think it's certainly worth a shot."
For the next few minutes, I was mostly silent. Franklin was instructing Taylor where to go. It was almost pitch-black outside, despite it only being a little after 7:30 pm. That realization made me think two things: first, that this neighbourhood needs more streetlights; and second, that our days our awfully short and sunshine is hard to come by in Winnipeg's fall and winter months.
"Yeah, this is it, 536!" Franklin said.
Taylor pulled up to the curb and let the car idle while Franklin unbuckled himself.
"It was really nice meeting you, Franklin. Take care and good luck with school. If you do end up catching a game, let Camille know so she can tell me," Taylor said.
And then he winked at me.
He. Winked. At. Me.
Geez Louise.
That was one hell of a bold statement, his assumption that Taylor and I will still be in contact after tonight.
"Will do! Thanks for the ride, Taylor. See you around, Camille!"
The door slammed shut and Taylor and I watched soundlessly as Franklin walked up the driveway and then disappeared into the side door with a wave.
"It was really nice of you to take us home. Thank you," I said to break the silence.
I wasn't used to getting driven around by people other than my parents or brother. The last time I caught a ride with a non-family member was when Angela's mom drove us to the movies when we were fifteen. Yeah, it was that long ago. My mom tended to drive us, unless we took the bus.
Taylor had just turned back onto the main street and we had both been quiet up until that point.
"Yeah, of course. I'm happy to help," he said earnestly.
"I'm about a ten-minute drive from here, by the way. Just go straight and I'll let you know when to turn."
Taylor didn't respond with words, just a small non-committal "mmm-mmm."
I was about to open my mouth to fill the silence with...well, with whatever hopefully appropriate and non-offensive things left my lips.
But Taylor beat me to it.
"Did you mean what you said about hockey?" he asked suddenly.
There was something in his tone of voice that made the question feel like it carried the weight of a thousand bricks.
"Yeah, I am a fan. But you already knew that."
Taylor shook his head.
"No, I meant about you thinking it takes talent and stuff like that."
"Oh, yeah, of course," I said, borrowing the words he used moments before. "That's not exactly a huge revelation, though, is it?"
We were stopped at a red light and Taylor placed his hands in his lap.
"I don't know. I love playing hockey and I know that it's a dream that so many people around North America and even Europe have. But sometimes you wonder if you're doing something superficial, playing a game for a living." He paused. "I don't know what I'm saying, though. Maybe it's because I haven't played for the Storm yet that I feel disconnected to the game."
With my bottom lip in between my teeth and top lip, I looked straight ahead and thought.
"You know, with all due respect, I don't think it's up to you to decide if it's superficial," I began after a few heavy moments. "Yeah, technically what you're doing is playing a game. But you have no idea what that game can mean to somebody. At the very least its entertainment, but it can also be something that gives people hope. Or a sense of community. I know you're from the States, but in Canada, hockey is it. Imagine a family of immigrants living in a large Canadian city, like Toronto, trying to fit in. Hockey can be that common ground. A way to speak the same language."
Feeling self-conscious of how much I had spoken, I looked over at Taylor. He was looking over at me with his lips slightly parted. His expression empowered me, so I continued.
"Look, this isn't something I tell a lot of people, because I don't know how they'll react. But three years ago, my grandmother on my dad's side passed away. She was in and out of the hospital for months, but at that time, she had been there for three weeks straight. My dad had been taking turns visiting her with his siblings, and my brother and mom and I would visit as well. The night before she passed there was a Storm game on the TV. It was the craziest game I had ever seen. The Storm would score and the other team would score right away in response, and vice versa. The game ended in regulation at a score of 5 to 5. The Storm ended up scoring and winning the game with thirty seconds left in overtime. I remember my brother and I got so into the game, standing literally only one foot away from the TV and jumping up and down. To a lot of people, I can see how caring so much about a game while a family member is dying is heartless, but it was our way of connecting to something bigger than us and experiencing joy in a joyless time."
I looked down at my hands folded on my lap. I hadn't thought about that time in a while, but when I let my mind return to it, that night floods back to me in vivid detail.
"Wow," Taylor breathed out after a few minutes of silence. "That's really powerful. I hadn't thought of sports' impact like that, so thank you."
I nodded and realized that we weren't moving. In fact, the car wasn't running.
"We're here, Camille."
What? How did he know where I live?
"We're not at your house," he said, reading my mind. "We're at the mall."
What on god's green earth? The freaking mall?
"Come on, before they close," he taunted.
Stunned, I followed Taylor out of the Jeep and met him at the trunk side, where he was already waiting for me.
"You need to pick something up?" I asked, beyond confused.
"You could say that. I'm taking you to buy a shirt, considering that I ruined the one you're wearing right now."
Oh god. I stopped walking momentarily but Taylor didn't. I then had to practically jog to catch up to him. I wanted to insist that my top wasn't ruined, but to be honest, I wasn't sure if Coke stained. Either way, he sure as hell didn't owe me a damn shirt.
And I told him so.
"Well, consider it a birthday present then. If you didn't want me to buy you a top, then you should have let me buy you a drink," he said.
What a snake.
"What the hell kind of logic is that?" I huffed.
Taylor had managed to find a spot near the mall entrance so thankfully we didn't need to walk in the cold for too long.
The conniving snake just shrugged. I didn't consider myself to be particularly stubborn, as I was too much of a people pleaser to stick my ground. Despite the fact that I didn't know Taylor well, he gave off a vibe that he was very much stubborn. I don't think professional athletes got to the pros by taking "no" for an answer.
"I haven't been to this place too much," Taylor admitted. "So you can lead the way."
I nodded, trying to get my bearing. The Gap was just around the corner, I thought...
"Follow me," I said, letting out a long breath.
As I was about to step into The Gap, I felt a large hand gently press on my shoulder.
My stomach flipped.
God, I loved that sensation.
"What?"
"Let's go next door instead," Taylor suggested.
My eyes narrowed. Next door was Aritzia.
No way...
"What? You don't like that store? I thought most girls did."
Yeah, I liked it, but it was hella expensive. This charade was ridiculous as it was without the high prices.
"You didn't deny it, let's go."
Taylor pulled my hand in his and I had no choice but to follow.
"Buy whatever you want. My treat, and don't worry about the price."
I muttered in my head how annoying I considered him. To my horror, Taylor saidâaloudâthat that wasn't very nice.
So, turns out, that wasn't in my head.
Shit.
I began to walk around the store, hoping that I could find something relatively cheap and comfortable in a short time. If Taylor was going to insist on buying me something, I wanted to get something I would wear a few times.
"You seriously don't have to do this," I said for the hundredth time as we scanned the racks.
"Just pick, please."
I made the mistake of letting my eyes linger on a crushed velvet top I had been eyeing forever. My main shopping buddy was my mom, and I had noticed it when we were browsing here a month ago. Okay, so maybe not forever, but a long time. I always felt guilty letting my mom spend her hard-earned money on overpriced clothes for me, so I didn't mention it. I always acted like I didn't like the clothes in here, otherwise she'd insist on buying me something. She was a big fan, though, so we'd often come in. It was hard ignoring this piece. It had long sleeves, a boat neck, and a cut out in the back. I was in love, but it was way too above my (i.e. my parents') budget.
Instead, I grabbed a cute powder blue crewneck in my size.
"Excuse me, can I start you a dressing room?" a young sales assistant asked.
"Yes," Taylor answered immediately.
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed, taking the sweater to the dressing rooms in the back.
"I already know that I want that."
He shrugged. "Great, try it on."
I rolled my eyes. Look at Mr. Bossy Boots go.
Taylor took a seat on the plush couch they had in the dressing room lobby and rested his head on his hands.
I got an odd, delicious, ridiculous rush at the thought that I'd be changing in the stall in front of him, with nothing but a curtain between us.
Moving swiftly, I took off my wet top, put on the crewneck, and looked in the mirror in the stall.
Ugh.
It didn't fit properly and was the opposite of flattering.
Forget it. I was just going to march out there and demand that Taylor take me home. The thought was incredibly nice but I wasn't going to make the poor guy spend all night in Aritizia.
I was about to put my soiled shirt back on when an arm pushed through the curtains.
I almost screamed.
"Camille, try this on."
Was that... it was.
The velvet shirt.
"I already know it's too..."
"Don't make me come in there. Just try it on."
Fine. But only because I was dying to, and not because he made me.
As soon as the fabric fell over my body I knew it was a winner.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
"Yeah."
I didn't even have it in me to lie.
"Can I see it on you? After all I am pay..."
When I stepped out of the stall, full diva style, his words faltered.
"Wow, you look beautiful."
I couldn't stop the smile that blossomed across my face. He said that I looked beautiful, not the top.
"Will you be purchasing this one?" the assistant asked.
"Yes," Taylor said.
"Just let me get changed," I said to both of them.
I was positively glowing as I got changed. On cloud nine, really. Except, the damn top wouldn't come off. The material wasn't as stretchy as it looked and it kept getting stuck around my neck.
"Taylor? Is the sales lady around?"
Please say yes, please say yes.
"No."
I couldn't believe I was about to do this.
"Okay, well, then, can you please come here with your eyes closed?"
"What?"
The sounds of his body shifting on the couch and the curtain opening met my ears, signalling that Taylor was near. I turned my back to him so he wouldn't see my B-cups in my plain black bra.
"It's stuck," I said.
I expected him to, you know, actually help me get the shirt off, but instead he started laughing.
He was actually cackling.
"It is not funny!" I said, even though I betrayed my words by laughing as well.
"And how exactly can I help with my eyes closed?" he said in between fits of laughter.
"Oh my god, just get it off!" I demanded, praying I didn't get claustrophobic.
"Okay, okay, just do your best to relax," he said softly. "Raise your arms."
Sure enough, with Taylor's directions, we were able to get the top off.
Both of our faces were beet red when we went to pay at the cashier.
"I can pay for this," I insisted.
"Absolutely not," Taylor said, narrowing his eyes an iota.
He gave the store associate his credit card and I was left helpless, just standing there. I stood there watching her wrap my gift so carefully and felt all kinds of emotions.
"Happy birthday," Taylor said as he handed me the bag.
My throat constricted as I accepted it. "Thank you, so much."
For once, it really, really was.