He blew off the dust and then leaned back, looking disgusted. “Pick a movie. I’m going to get this bad boy hooked up.”
“Are you bored with the stimulating conversation?”
“To death,” he said the words without apology.
Oddly, there was no hint that he was unhappy with the way things were going. He didn’t seem annoyed or even put-off, which was a relief. At least he wasn’t going to require an exorbitant amount of attention and effort.
“Aliens,” I said, pointing.
Taylor took the box over to the small television sitting on top of a two-shelf table. He sat the VCR on the bottom shelf and then began unraveling the wires. “Yeah, I like that one.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Like it? It’s a classic.”
“I saw Sixteen Candles in there. I figured you’d pick that.” He plugged a cable into the back of the VCR and then reached around the back of the television.
“Clearly, you don’t know me at all.”
“I can’t decide if you’re trying to hate me or trying to make me hate you.”
“Neither.”
Taylor made a face but only because he had to reach further to screw the cable into the proper connection. “So, I don’t.”
“You don’t what?”
“Hate you.”
“Damn,” I teased.
Taylor achieved whatever it was he had been trying to do and sat upright before stretching out his legs and crossing them, leaning his back against the wall beside the TV. “I think you hate yourself enough for the both of us.”
I felt my cheeks turn red. He didn’t know how close he’d come to the truth.
“Is that a rage coming on?” Taylor said, mistaking my embarrassment for anger.
My arm pressed against the side of the chair as I leaned forward. “You don’t have that kind of effect on me.”
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I’d have to give a shit about you to get angry.”
“Oh, are you analyzing now, Ivy League? I thought you said you weren’t a psych major.”
“Now, you’re just being rude.”
“Saying you’re shit at conversation and that I have a feeling you’re a judgmental bitch is rude, but I wasn’t going to take it that far. But you are … and you are.”
“Ouch.” I purposely kept my features smooth.
He shook his head, confused. “One minute, you’re reactive, and the next, I can’t get a reaction. You’re all over the place. I cannot figure you out—like, at all. And I minored in women.”
“That must get you so much ass and so many high fives from your friends. But that doesn’t impress me.”
He paused for a moment. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t think so. But you can if you want.”
“I don’t want. And that’s weird for me that I have an opinion, one way or the other.”
“I’m intrigued. Continue.”
“First of all, I like that you’re awkward as fuck and that you’re a raging bitch. Girls tend to giggle and run their hands through their hair a lot when I’m around. You’ve all but told me to fuck off.”
“Fuck off.”
“See? I like you.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to like me.”
“I know. And I don’t, not like that. And I think that’s what surprises me the most.”
His revelation caught me off guard, but the twinge in the pit of my stomach surprised me even more.
“Listen, Ivy League, I’m here until October. I work my ass off all day. If I’m lucky, I work first shift, so I can eat lunch at the café. You and your hateful-ass mouth have been the highlight of this job. I think you’re just being hostile because you think I’m trying to bag you, and clearly, I’m not capable of taming the shrew in this story. So, let’s turn the volume up on Aliens, so we can’t hear that piece-of-shit washer of yours and hang out.”
I blinked.
He shrugged. “I don’t care about whatever problem you have with your parents. I don’t care that you have some sort of fucked-up issue with men. I don’t want within five feet of your pussy, and you’ve gotta know that now because I’d never use the P word if I’m looking to get laid. Girls hate that. I just want to be around someone cool who also owns a washer and dryer and the best collection of VHS tapes I’ve seen since the nineties.”
“Five feet, huh?” I said. I crawled off my chair, across the scratchy carpet, and over to where Taylor was sitting.
He stiffened as I planted my hands on each side of his legs and leaned in, stopping inches from his lips.
“You sure about that?” I whispered.
He swallowed and then opened his mouth, speaking quietly, “Get the fuck away from me. I know full well that touching you would be like putting my finger on a loaded gun.”
“Then don’t pull the trigger,” I dared him, my lips almost grazing his.
He didn’t move forward, but he didn’t retreat. His body was relaxed, comfortable, with being that close to mine. “I won’t.”
I sat back on my heels and rested my hands on my knees, thinking about what he’d said. “You sound awfully confident for a guy who keeps coming to see me day after day.”
“You’re fucking weird—like, weirder than I thought. Did I pass the test?”