The Suite Life (The Family Stone Book 1) Page 10

  He was messing around, but I smiled and pointed at Taylor while nodding and looking at Lucas. "He really is a baller," I assured Lucas. "No joke."

  Lucas liked that, he wore a huge grin and slyly nodded his approval at Taylor before heading into the suite to talk to my dad.

  Taylor had played it off like nothing was wrong, but he looked at Lucas a little sideways from the moment Lucas called me 'baby girl'. Lucas was just like that. As of this moment, he was most likely saying things of that nature to Karen and every other girl in our suite. It didn’t mean anything, coming from Lucas, but it was interesting to see the slight shift in Taylor's demeanor. It reminded me of the evening before in the car when my father said those things to make him jealous. He just stiffened up a little.

  "I guess I'll see you at eight," Taylor said.

  Not knowing that he was about to speak, I said, "He's funny," at the same exact time.

  Taylor had heard my statement in spite of us talking over each other, and he smiled at me. "He called himself a baller," he said responding to my comment.

  "So did you," I said with a silly wide-eyed expression, teasing him—flirting with him.

  "Yes, but I really am a baller," Taylor said. "And I only said it in response to him saying it."

  I laughed. "I know you have to go," I said reluctantly.

  "I'll come to your room at eight," he said.

  ***

  Taylor knocked on my door at eight o'clock on the dot. My dad, along with Karen and Nick, were all in the living room with me when he got there. Nick was playing a videogame where his character had to kill other people who were online playing. My dad didn't know how to work the controller, but he liked to watch Nick battle and he often told him where to go and what to do with his character. Sometimes, they argued like teenage brothers, but Nick always gave in.

  Karen and I were in the living room with them, watching the action when Taylor got there.

  I greeted him at the door. I still had on my black romper, but I traded the denim jacket for a slightly dressier black and white one.

  Taylor reached in to hug me when he came in the door. "You're so beautiful," was the first thing he said to me, and he said it close enough to my ear that no one else heard. Instead of answering him out loud, I gave his arms an extra squeeze. While I was near him, I breathed in his clean scent, feeling utterly calm and at peace now that he was nearby. I really just truly, genuinely liked this guy. My heart was happy.

  "Hey, Taylor," my dad said from across the room.

  "Hey, Mr. Stone," Taylor waved as we broke contact and began heading toward the living room.

  "Blue said you were eating sushi."

  "Yes sir, that's what we talked about." He touched his mid-section. "I'm starving, too." He looked around as if searching for something. "Have you guys eaten? Would you like to come with us, or can we bring you something back?"

  "You're not coming with us, but we can bring you something back," I said.

  Everyone knew I was (mostly) joking, so they laughed about how quickly and impassively I said it.

  "No. Thank you, though, Taylor," Dad said. "We were just talking about ordering something."

  "Somebody mentioned chowder at the game earlier, and your dad's hungry for that now," Karen said. "I've got the number for three different places. We're gonna try them all and see which one's the best."

  "Sounds fun," Taylor said. "You'll have to give me the verdict."

  Dad smiled at him. "Take care of my daughter," he said.

  Taylor gave a little bow. "For the next two hours, I will focus on nothing else."

  His words sent chills up my spine. Chivalry was attractive to me, and Taylor was so very good at it. He was smooth and considerate while somehow being tough, no nonsense, and in control. I wanted to do anything I could to extend the time that he was planning on focusing on me. Surely, I could get more than a couple of hours. Maybe the rest of his life? Was that too much to ask?

  ***

  We sat at the sushi bar instead of getting a table.

  We mostly talked to each other, but we also made conversation with the chefs. We were there for quite a while, eating, and getting to know more of each other. We didn't make physical contact, but we flirted and smiled, and it was completely obvious that I liked him and he liked me.

  Two hours passed in what felt like ten minutes, and before I knew what was happening, Taylor had paid the check and we were leaving.

  We walked to a local coffee shop that didn't close until midnight. We had eaten dessert at the sushi bar, so neither of us were hungry. I knew, however, that going back to the hotel would signal the end of our evening together, so I asked if we could go to the coffee shop to avoid that happening.

  We ordered tea and ended up staying there until almost closing time.

  Again, time passed too quickly.

  We walked slowly on our way back to the hotel, so it was after midnight by the time we got there. Taylor spoke briefly to the doorman on duty and then to the concierge before leading me to a place on the edge of the lobby where no one was paying attention to us.

  "I wonder if your dad found the world's best chowder," he said as we made our way over there.

  I smiled. "I'm surprised he didn't already know what the best one was," I said. "Everything's a contest with him. He's constantly asking us to rate things."

  Taylor nodded at that. "I remember him making us all rate the appetizers at Mitch's the other night."

  "Exactly," I said. "It's always 'which one is your favorite', or 'how would you rate it, one to ten'."

  "Ten," Taylor said.

  I looked at him, and he smiled. "Twelve or fifteen out of ten, actually."

  "What are we rating?" I asked.

  "Tonight. This moment, right now."

  "Which one is it?" I asked. "Tonight, or this moment?"

  "Why?" he asked. "Would they be two different scores for you? Aren't they the same?"

  I shook my head confidently. "No. Tonight in general is a fifteen out of ten, but this moment, right now… well…" I paused and glanced around. "It's more like an eight or nine out of ten. Don't you think? Maybe seven even."

  Taylor's face turned into an offended grimace, which made me laugh.

  "What? I'm just being honest."

  "What's wrong with this moment?" he asked.

  "Nothing's wrong with it. Eight or nine out of ten isn't bad. Or even seven."

  "What could make it better, then?"

  I looked around and let out a little sigh. "We're about to say goodnight, and I'll get in the elevator and go to my room."

  "Yeah, that is pretty bad," he agreed.

  "It wouldn't be so bad if we were in a different location," I said. I glanced around, noting the various hotel employees in the distance. "I would have given us a fifteen if we were in a place where we could maybe say goodbye without everybody noticing us. It's points off for location."

  Taylor looked around with furrowed eyebrows and a serious expression like he was really trying to assess the situation. "You're so right," he said, pretending to be disappointed.

  "This is a really terrible place to say goodbye."

  "What do we do?" I asked.

  "I have an idea," he said.

  And just like that, he grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator. Aside from a quick hand on my back or an accidental brush, it was the first time he had touched me all evening. He was officially holding my hand, and I stepped onto the elevator feeling breathless and shaken because of it.

  Chapter 13

  I thought he was going to kiss me right there in the elevator. I expected him to do it, and I thought it would happen right when the doors closed. I stifled the jitters and held my breath, anticipating it.

  Taylor still had a hold of my hand.

  He reached out with his other hand to press a button, and I glanced that way to see what button he pressed. I had the hunch that he was going to take us to the penthouse level and kiss me on the way.

 
; I watched as he pressed the number 8.

  8.

  It felt random for about three seconds before I remembered the episode on the stairs.

  "Are we… where are we going?"

  Taylor reached out and touched the number 8 again, telling me where we were going without saying any words.

  I was supremely aware of the fact that my hand was in his. I felt like I had about a thousand nerve endings in my hand—like we might produce an actual electrical zap.

  The elevator moved quickly, and in seconds, the doors opened on the eighth floor. We exited and walked toward the left, in the direction of the stairwell.

  I grew more and more breathless with every step. My heart raced and my blood ran warm. Taylor walked at a normal pace, glancing at me with a smile as he opened the door that led to the stairs. I went in ahead of him and I was instantly faced with a decision. I could go down toward the seventh floor, or up toward the ninth. It was a no-brainer. I headed upward to the landing between the eighth and ninth floors—to the exact spot where we had been the night before.

  "What exactly are we doing here?" I asked in mock confusion.

  I turned around casually once I reached the back corner of the landing, and Taylor instantly approached me. He was smooth and gentle, but he wasted no time at all getting into my space. He let his hands fall on me, touching my upper arms with reverence as he looked me over. Our eyes were connected, and I smiled, feeling so thankful that I had a wall to lean against.

  Taylor glanced at my mouth when I smiled. He shook his head almost imperceptibly like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Blue, I… I… honestly didn't think things would be like this with us…"

  He was serious, almost concerned, and I stared at him curiously.

  "What's that mean?" I asked.

  "I really did think I would…" He let out a breath, and I felt his chest deflate. He shook his head as if searching for the right words. "For the next eighteen months or so, I'm going to be unimaginably busy—focused—dedicated—single minded."

  "Okay…" I said, not knowing where he was headed with that.

  "Blue, I don’t have time for… I mean… I didn't think I had time for…" he breathed again. "What I'm saying is that I can't bear the thought of not seeing you again. That just doesn't feel like an option to me. I honestly thought I'd be okay with just saying it was great meeting you and leaving it at that, but I'm just not. I'm not okay with that. Are you?"

  I was slightly confused, and I bit my lip, hoping I didn't answer wrong. "I don't think so?" I said as more of a question than a statement.

  "Just please say you want to see me after this," he said.

  I stared at him, wondering how he could even ask that. I was basically in love with the guy. I had been desperately waiting for him to say he wanted to see me again.

  "Of course, I want t—"

  He kissed me.

  He didn’t wait for me to finish my sentence. His lips touched mine. A gentle kiss—a replica of the ones we shared the night before. He pulled back, looking down at me.

  "I have to see you again," he said.

  I nodded. "I want to. In California or wherever you're at. I know you're gonna be really bu—"

  He did not let me finish my sentence.

  He cut me off by kissing me as I was in the middle of saying a word. It was because of this that his lips happened to make contact with mine when mine were open. His mouth instantly molded to mine—pressing a warm, wet kiss against me. He wrapped a hand around the back of my head, and this encouragement caused me to open my mouth to him. He let his tongue touch mine, kissing me deeply for a few toe-curling, gut-clenching seconds. Taylor held me and kissed me like he meant it—holding me securely with his warm mouth over mine. He broke the kiss but then he did it again, two more times, before pulling back far enough to focus on my face.

  I stared into his green eyes.

  I wanted to look into them forever.

  I felt something akin to ownership of them. Maybe that was too much, but I definitely didn't want anyone else having the opportunity to exchange this type of look with Taylor. We stared at each other, communicating our mutual admiration without saying anything. We liked each other. Both of us felt it. That was evident by the way we regarded each other in those seconds.

  "I have to see you again," he said, still looking slightly perplexed like he hadn't expected any of this to happen.

  I smiled at him and reached up to touch his face. My hand cramped as I opened it, and it was only then that I realized that I had been squeezing it closed tightly. Any discomfort I felt in my hand went away as soon as my fingers touched his cheek. He was clean-shaven, but I could feel the hint of stubble underneath the surface of his skin.

  I smiled absentmindedly at the feel of it.

  I wondered if I had ever been so attracted to a man.

  I didn't think I had.

  I knew I hadn't.

  I was enraptured, infatuated, hooked like a fish, putty in his hands. I grinned when I had the realization that he was putty in my hands too.

  "I have to see you again, too," I said.

  I stretched upward, kissing him again. He ducked to meet me when he saw what I was doing. Our mouths met, and we stayed like that for several long seconds.

  Taylor groaned when he finally pulled back, and then he kissed me three more times like he couldn't make himself stop. "I am in bad shape over you, Blue," he said, shaking his head.

  I smiled, and he continued to shake his head when he saw me.

  "It's really bad," he said, staring straight at me.

  "I know," I said.

  "I hope you know," he said in a jovial tone. "If you don't know, I'm in even bigger trouble."

  "I think you're in trouble either way."

  "I think you're right," he said.

  "I'm in trouble, too," I admitted. "I got my own junk going on back in California. I can't be trying to talk to some guy…" I was messing around, acting all tough, but I was just about ready to drop anything and everything to be with him. I hated the thought of leaving Boston in the morning.

  "What?" he asked.

  "What, what?" I asked.

  "Why'd you get serious?"

  I managed a smile. "I was just thinking about leaving in the morning," I said. "I don't even know what time we're heading out."

  "I talked to your dad about it. He said you would leave for the airport at ten."

  "Will you meet me downstairs to say goodbye?" I asked.

  "Of course I will," he said. "I already told your dad I'd go to your room at five-till to get your things."

  I nodded. My hand was still on his face, and I flexed my fingers touching him tenderly and giving him a regretful smile.

  "I know," he said. "We gotta go. It's late."

  "You’re the one who has to be up at five," I said.

  He gave me a nod before kissing me again. He let his mouth linger on mine before he pulled back, moaning dreadfully. We smiled at each other slowly, regretfully.

  "There's really no good moment to walk out of this stairwell," he said.

  I kissed him again. "I know," I said. "But we have to."

  "Yep," he said.

  He kissed me.

  Twice.

  "So, we're gonna see each other again," he said. "In California. It's a promise, okay?"

  I nodded. "Soon," I added.

  "Soon," he agreed.

  We left that stairway holding hands. Taylor rode with me up the elevator to the penthouse level. He didn't kiss me while we were in there. There were multiple cameras, and he didn't want to take any chances for either of us.

  We shared an extended verbal farewell on our way up the elevator and down the hall headed toward my room, so by the time we got to the door, Taylor just gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and headed the other way.

  I had been so enraptured that I was just now noticing how late it was. My dad was in his bedroom, and Nick and Karen had gone to their rooms. It was extremely quiet in our
room, which was a relief for me because I had a lot to think about.

  I had a lot of feelings to sort through.

  I had spent a lot of time with Taylor in the last two days. I spent the last five hours with him, and I found myself replaying moments of it—smiling, and blushing, and cringing at different memories.

  We had exchanged phone numbers, and I came really close to texting him, but I decided to leave things how they were—let the evening settle in my own mind and in his. I went to sleep just before 2am with a smile on my face.

  ***

  I was not smiling at 6:52 when my dad shook me and woke me up.

  "Blue. Blue. Hey, Baby Blue."

  He said my name a little louder each time, and I opened my eyes, blinking and squinting even though it was mostly dark in my room. I still hadn't completely caught up on rest from the flight to Boston, and I sincerely had a difficult time getting my eyes to stay open.

  My alarm was set for 9am, and I blinked at the digital clock that told me it was much earlier than that. I glanced at my dad like he lost his mind.

  "We gotta get up and movin', Baby Blue. I know you came in late, so tried to let you sleep in as late as I could, but we gotta get going right now, peanut. You've got about fifteen minutes to get some clothes on and pack your stuff." He patted me on the leg. "Go ahead and get dressed and get your things together. We've got coffee out there."

  "Daaad," I said, sleepily.

  He was already on his way out of the room, and he turned.

  "I thought we were leaving at ten o'clock."

  He shook his head. "Bobby had to reschedule. He called last night and said we have to leave at eight instead of eleven."

  I knew Bobby was the pilot, so I just sat there and let that new bit of information sink in. "How many minutes do I have?"

  "Fifteen."

  I turned on my lamp as soon as Dad left the room.

  I had no time to waste.

  I had to pack and get dressed, and fifteen minutes went by in what felt like half-a-second.

  I was just so tired and out-of-it that I was walking around in a dreamlike state. That must have been the case, because I found myself standing at the door for room 112, Taylor's room, and I hardly remembered going downstairs.