|
Viva Las Vegas
Bright light city gonna set my
soul |
When the limo pulled up in front of the Bellagio, I had worked myself into a complete fit. Taylor hated me, I was sure of it. He had to think cause he wasn't going to give me back the ring. He had to come up with the perfect way to break up with me. I had finally pushed him too far. Zac’s prediction of Taylor not taking my attitude for much longer had come true. I could hear all the naysayers chuckling, as their dire predictions were proven true. And of course, they would all say that it served me right for being such an evil creature to him.
This fact was totally driven home by the driver’s offhand comment that he thought there was going to be two people to pick up. Taylor had planned to come with me only 30 minutes before the plane landed. In my careless, selfish manner, I'd managed to mess everything up. Isn't it ironic that for the last 24 hours, I kept wishing that I would be able to think of something to say, some way to make things right? My brain and my mouth had been curiously disengaged when I really needed to say something. Then, when silence would have served me well, I couldn't stop myself from saying something downright stupid. Even before I said it, when I had the opportunity to stop and just say "I love you," I had to tell him all sorts of stuff that just wasn't important. Things that I didn't necessarily even believe. Things that just weren't true.
As the limo rolled by the casinos, I had the overwhelming urge to leap from the car and run back towards the airport, run down the strip shrieking Taylor's name at the top of my lungs, run back into his arms. Tears just started rolling down my cheeks. I was finding it so hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to just sit up. Every single part of my body ached with need for him. When the limo pulled into the turnaround in front of the hotel, I hurriedly mopped my face dry with the hem of my t-shirt.
The
car rolled to a stop, the door opened and a doorman held his hand out to help
me out of the limo. "Ms.
Burton?"
"Yes."
I said as I again stepped out into the incredible heat.
"Isn't
Mr. Hanson with you?" He
asked obviously expecting someone else to emerge after me.
"No,"
I mumbled.
"Fine,
please follow me," he said entreating me to enter through a single much
more ornate door than the automatic door the masses were herded through.
"Your room is set up for you, I think you'll find the room to be
satisfactory." He led me
into an open elevator and hit one of the buttons for a floor way up high in
the tower. "All the
arrangements have been made precisely to your fiancée's specifications."
"Umm…
okay." I said
wondering exactly what Taylor's specifications were.
I sincerely hoped they didn't include pushing me out of a window.
Also, I was pretty sure I wasn't his fiancée anymore.
As the elevator sped upwards, I felt my stomach drop.
I was still pretty hungover, so my stomach was feeling less than
stellar. I wasn't really
nauseated anymore; I was more hungry than anything.
But then again, I was stressed to the point that the very idea of
eating upset my stomach. But the
extra lightheaded feeling as the elevator climbed told me I would need to eat.
"The
bath has been drawn, dinner will be brought to you in about 30 minutes."
He said smiling as he unlocked the door to an amazing suite.
"The manicurist and hairdresser will arrive shortly after the meal
is brought up."
"Okay…" I said as he led me through the room. He pulled the door to the bathroom opened. The room was filled with candles and roses. The enormous tub was filled with warm, bubbly water. At the soft, sweet scent of lavender, I felt my heart drop. I was sure it wasn't an accident; Taylor knew lavender was my favorite scent in the world. He had truly planned everything down to the smallest detail. He had taken care and put a lot of thought into preparing this. My eyes swept around the luxurious room and I wished beyond anything that Taylor were here with me. If for no other reason than I could use someone to scrub my back.
"Your
dresser will be up with your clothes, but until then there is a robe hanging
on the back of the door for you." He
said smiling warmly. "If
there is anything you need, anything we can get you…
just dial 0 on the phone."
"Okay, thank you." I said watching him leave completely dumbfounded. I sank down onto the toilet and started crying. I wanted to sob and wail, but I just didn't have the energy. So, I sat there with tears dripping off my chin and the end of my nose, each tear landing with a plop on my t-shirt. Slowly, I stripped my clothing off and climbed into the warm, fragrant water. Despite all of my upset, this seemed to be just what I needed to release the tension and sickness. I didn't know what Taylor had planned, but I loved it so far. I just wished he were here to share it with me. Although, I had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't in the cards for this day.
After
soaking for about 15 minutes, I decided it was time to get rolling.
I looked at the incredible array of shampoos, conditioners, body
washes, shaving creams.
The selection was amazing, in fact, I hadn't even heard of
many of the brands. I was sure
that in real life I couldn't afford them.
I settled on a shampoo and conditioner that smelled strongly of pina
coladas and reminded me of summer days. Also,
I knew that Taylor loved the sweet and sour smell of Pina Coladas.
And really, I was willing to try anything to get him to stay with me.
I chose a body wash that smelled clean and sagey.
I think I picked it because it smelled so earthy and basic.
And it reminded me of the way Taylor smelled.
Finally, I shaved my legs with a shaving cream that tingled, leaving my
skin feeling smoother than I had ever felt it.
Taylor would love how smooth my legs were.
He was a fan of a clean-shaven leg.
Finally, I climbed reluctantly out of the tub and wrapped my hair up in
a towel. I was pulling on the
robe when I realized that there was someone in the room.
I pulled the robe close to me and called out.
"Taylor?"
"No
ma'am," a very deep voice called. "Your
luncheon has arrived."
"It
has?" I said stepping into
the suite. There before me stood
a very nicely dressed waiter behind a cart of food.
Emanating from the cart was the most mouthwatering smell ever.
I stepped over to the chair he had pulled out for me and settled there.
My stomach gave a hungry rumble. "It
smells heavenly."
"Thank you Miss Burton. My name is Leon," he said shaking my hand, "I will be serving you this afternoon. First, we have for you a French Onion soup and a Caesar salad," he said lifting the silver dome. Beneath it was the most beautiful Soupe a l'Oignon Gratinèe I had ever laid my eyes on. I picked up the spoon to help myself as he began to create the Caesar salad before my eyes.
"Dang, I have a hard time getting my lettuce clean before I dump dressing on it," I said as he crushed the hard boiled egg in with the olive oil, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper and anchovy paste.
"I
hear that a lot," the very handsome waiter said as he tossed the lettuce.
"Really, Caesar salads are simple once you get the hang of
it."
"I'm
a horrible cook," I said sighing as the warm soup hit my stomach.
I hadn't realized how truly hungry I was.
As I ate, the intense feeling of nausea abated.
I made a mental note: Next
hangover, eat right away.
"Here is your salad," he said setting the plate down in front of me.
"Thank
you so much!" I said around a mouthful of the savory salad.
"As
an appetizer, we have a shrimp bowl."
He added lifting the lid off another domed plate.
Underneath it was a bowl of the biggest fattest shrimp I've ever seen.
"Then, as a main dish, Filet Mignon with Pommes de Terre Dauphinois."
"This
is so fantastic." I said as
the savory broth from the soup warmed me.
"Thank
you," Leon said smiling. "And
for your desert, one hazelnut cappuccino and tiramisu."
I
had to smile. It was all so
perfect. Zac was wrong; we
weren't mysteries to each other. Taylor
knew me. He knew me so well that
he had gotten every single thing perfect so far.
The irony of this situation hit me.
I had dared him to prove to me he loved me.
And he had succeeded. I
chuckled softly at the completely hopeless nature of this day.
"How is it possible that he knows me this well?"
"Who
would that be?" Leon asked
clearing the ingredients from the salad.
I hadn't even realized I was talking out loud.
"My fiancé..." I said stopping short. Was he still my fiancé? He must be if he did all of this for me. Suddenly all of this amazing food was a waste. I didn't think I'd be able to choke down any of it. I was so hungry, but really, the thought of Taylor not coming to me made food so secondary. But I knew that if I didn't eat I would just get more and more sick.
"He
was very specific about what and how to serve you."
Leon said pushing his cart out of the room.
He stopped as he was about to walk out the door.
"Someone will be up in a little while to gather the dishes."
"Thank you," I said as he pulled the door closed behind him. I pushed myself back from the table and stood up. I was hit with an intense dizzy spell. I really hadn't been able to keep food in my stomach for well over 36 hours. I really, really needed to eat. I sat woodenly stuffing bits of the food into my mouth. Food that had smelled so amazing now had no flavor. I felt like I was just shoving pieces of cardboard into my mouth, like I was swallowing sawdust. This meal brought me no pleasure. I was eating so that I wouldn't faint.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that Taylor must mean to come and join me. He just had to. I mean, there was enough food on the table to feed both of us. And it was all food I knew he loved. Anyway, this was far too elaborate and too planned out. In fact, I began to wonder how long he had been arranging for all these fantastic surprises. The private jet alone was something that required more than a few hours notice. As I sat savoring the food, I became more and more sure that this had been a part of the plan all along. He had always meant for us to elope. The push for a date and big plans were all just a ruse. At this thought, the food started to taste better and the tightness in my chest had relaxed.
I
was about to pull the towel out of my hair when I heard another knock on the
door. I smiled wondering if he
was the surprise this time. I
looked through the peephole and saw a small gaggle of very made up women.
I opened the door cautiously. "Can
I help you?"
"Are
you Cleo?" A woman pushing a
very large cart filled with beauty supplies asked.
"Yes,
I..." I began, before I could finish my sentence, they were pushing the
cart and what appeared to be a salon chair into the room.
"What is this?"
"Well,
it's been arranged for us to come up and give you a complete beauty
treatment." The woman whose
name was RUBY! according to the nametag shaped like a pink Cadillac pinned
proudly on her garish fuchsia smock. "We're
gonna make you gorgeous for your night on the town."
"Oh,
okay." I said tentatively as
I was ushered toward the waiting chair. I
was a little scared about how I was going to end up looking when I saw how
Ruby and her compatriots looked. Now,
I'm not one to judge others by stereotypes, but dang, they all looked like my
nightmare vision of women who have lived a little too much.
They had the most unnatural looking colors on their hair,
which had a height and volume that was well beyond preternatural.
And the colors of their makeup didn't occur in nature.
"Now
honey, you can just sit back and relax."
Ruby said as I hesitated. She
applied gentle pressure on my shoulder; I sank down into the barber’s chair.
"We have everything under control."
"Thanks," I said she encased me in a large black smock.
"Now,
I can see by the look in your eyes that you have some doubts."
Ruby said pulling the towel out of my hair.
"But there is nothing in this world to worry about."
"Not
a thing," Vera said placing both of my feet gently into a portable
whirlpool for the feet. "You
won't look like us."
"That isn't it..." I protested. I was pretty embarrassed that they had figured out what my main concern was.
"My
heavens," Ruby exclaimed as she began to comb out my hair.
"You have more hair than anyone I've done in a long time.
I think she may have more hair even than Priscilla."
"Now there's a beautiful woman." Marge said nodding her head, her eyes misting over. She smiled at me like I should agree with her. But I had no clue what she was talking about.
"Thelma
said that her skin was like silk." Vera interjected.
She sighed softly her eyes taking on a gentle faraway look, the look of
someone remembering something very special.
"She was a vision on their wedding day."
"Too
bad you don't want a beehive," Ruby said.
"I could get some serious height with hair this length.
You know, your hair is the color that E always had me dye
Priscilla's..."
"E?
As in Elvis Presley?" I
asked suddenly realizing who they were talking about.
"No
one else," Ruby said laughing a big, hearty laugh.
"We began our careers working for the biggies in the 60's.
Thelma was beautiful and gregarious and a big liar.
She got us in with all of them. We
were just young girls with no training...
Sisters who had spent hours doing each other’s hair and
make-up. E thought Thelma was
something special."
"You
are sisters then?" I asked
noticing how much they looked alike. Of
course, they were sisters.
"Yep,"
Marge said as she checked on my hands soaking in tubs of warm, soapy water.
"Thelma started us out. God
rest her soul."
"I'm
sorry," I said watching as each of them quickly crossed themselves.
"Thank you," Ruby murmured as she switched on a blow dryer effectively cutting off our conversation. I watched them amazed that these made up women had actually known Elvis Presley. Realizing that in many ways, they had been witness to the same sort of hysteria that ruled my life. This fact alone made me warm up to them. They may look hard and world weary on the outside, but they had warm, inviting smiles and lovely, caring eyes.
As these women worked on me, simultaneously giving me a manicure, a pedicure and styling my hair, it occurred to me that they resembled the bright neon signs out in front of the older casinos. They shone brightly, but they weren't beautiful like the newer signs. They were just a little bit shabby and careworn and had definitely seen better days. They chatted companionably between themselves, mostly ignoring me after the initial introductions. I listened to the grunted shorthand they shared. Amazed that they could communicate so effectively without actual words. The hum's and hah's were punctuated with the astounding popping of their gum. Their communication sounded so familiar and yet, I'd never met these women before. The few bits of offered information was that they were sisters who did this sort of in room makeovers all the time. The longer they chatted, the more I realized how famous they were for these transformations. As they talked about the celebrities they'd given the "old one-two," I began to trust them implicitly.
Suddenly,
I realized where I'd heard communication like that before.
Isaac, Taylor and Zac were totally able to communicate without actual
words. They had there own
shorthand that included ooh's and ahh's and musical chords.
I felt myself getting warm and sleepy as Ruby used a flat iron on my
hair. Suddenly, it was as if they
remembered I was in the room.
"So, Cleo, honey, what are you and your beau doing tonight?" Ruby asked between surprising pops of her gum.
"I was hoping you could shed some light on that for me," I said as Vera applied a second coat of a brilliant red to my toenails.
"Very romantic," Marge said as she put the finishing touches on a French manicure. "The surprise of it all is so romantic."
"I don't know..." I said closing my eyes as Marge applied another blast of hair spray to my hair.
"Maybe
he's brought you here to marry you."
Marge said holding up my left hand where the very distinct white line
circled my ring finger. "Cause
until very recently, you had a ring on this finger."
"Yeah,
until last night," I said trying not to sound as sad as I felt.
"I doubt he's here to marry me.
I threw the ring at him last night.
I somehow doubt I'm on his short list of favorite people.
He must have arranged all of these surprises before I went on my
rampage last night."
"That's
interesting," Ruby said as she blasted my hair again with hairspray.
"Cause I got the email from him setting this up this morning.
And he sent in a very specific picture of how you wanted your
hair."
"This morning?" I asked.
"Yeah, around 2 a.m." She said popping her gum with a skill I was completely impressed by.
"Wow."
I said falling silent. Taylor
had set this, all this, up after I had basically told him to go to hell.
And then I had been horrible and hateful to him on the flight here.
"Can you get me my phone? I
need to call him..."
"Honey, your nails are still wet." Marge said, as there was another knock on the door.
"I'll
grab that," Ruby said. She
opened the door and a couple more women walked in.
One carrying an enormous garment bag and the other was dressed in the
same smock as the 3 already here, but she was young and hip and had good hair.
"Tobey Thelma Grant, you are late."
"I
know, I know." She said as
she set a large makeup case down. "It
just couldn't be helped."
"Baby,
you're such a victim all the time."
Ruby said as she began assaulting my hair again.
"Mom,
I have no control over the traffic."
Tobey said as she pulled my glasses off.
"Now, Cleo, what colors do you usually wear?"
"Colors?"
I asked.
"Yeah, eye shadows, blush, mascara…" Tobey said as she started smoothing a very good smelling tonic over my face.
"To
be honest, I don't." I said
shrugging.
"I
can work with that." Tobey
said as she smoothed a soft lotion over my skin.
"You have very beautiful skin, but you need more sleep and less
alcohol in your life."
"What?" I asked as she squinted at my skin and held a piece of cardboard with a lot of different shades of tan against my face.
"Tobey,
you be nice to customers." Ruby
said as Marge and Vera clucked their tongues at her.
"You can tell what I did last night by looking at my skin?" I asked.
"Well,
by the dark circles under your eyes, I can see that you didn't sleep nearly
enough last night and your skin is a little dehydrated, so I can tell you've
been drinking." Tobey said
as she plucked a bottle out of her vast assortment.
"I spend my entire day looking at peoples skin real close up.
I can tell when someone drinks or smokes – which you should stop
completely by the way. Even
two or three a week will show on your skin.
But all in all, you're skin is good.
It just looks like you had a little too much fun last night."
"Wow, that is an impressive, if slightly freaky talent." I said as she started applying foundation to my face.
"Skin
is not just a science, it's a living thing that speaks to me."
Tobey said smiling.
"Yeah,
she's the "skin whisperer," Vera said laughing.
"Laugh it up old lady, but you sure changed your tune when I made you look 20 years younger!" Tobey said laughing.
"It's
true, she's a genius." Vera
said as she held a fan up to my toes. "I've
never had a facelift and I look better than all of my friends.
And most of them have had a little nip and tuck!"
"Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Ruby said as she curled a long tendril that framed my face.
"Yes,
Momma, you're a genius." Tobey
said as she dusted my face lightly with loose powder.
"Do you have contacts?"
"Umm,
no?" I said shrugging.
"Okay,
I can work with that." She
said digging through a dizzying amount of color choices.
"So, what are you doing tonight?"
"She
doesn't know." Marge said as
she packed away her equipment.
"You
don't?" Tobey asked
surprised. "Do you think
he's gonna ask you to marry him?"
"He
already has." I said as she
swiftly and expertly applied makeup to my eyes.
"But I gave him back the ring last night."
"Really?"
Tobey asked.
"Yeah, more like hucked it at him as hard as I could." I said the memory of last night's fight bringing tears to my eyes.
"Hey
now, no tears." Tobey said
as she leaned in to apply some mascara. "Don't
want to ruin my masterpiece."
I tried to smile, but the memory of the fight and then
today's flight, made it hard. "What
color lipstick do you usually wear? Never
mind, you probably don't, right? Are
you opposed to a lovely red?"
"No,
but I have a tendency to eat my lipstick off."
I said as she dug through her dizzying assortment looking for
the perfect color. To my
surprise, she came up with four or five colors and started cutting off chunks
and mixing them in a little tub.
"Well,
if you eat the lipstick off, I'll just mix you up enough so you can
reapply." She said as she
expertly mixed a custom color. "Now,
hold your lips in an "O." There,
you're done!"
"I am?" I asked as I slipped my glasses back on.
"You
are." Ruby said holding out
her hand and helping me to my feet. "Go
and look at yourself in the mirror."
"Okay,"
I said smiling at them. I stepped
back into the bathroom and stopped short.
There was a beautiful woman looking out of the mirror at me.
"Wow!"
"You
look beautiful," Vera said smiling behind me.
"Like a picture…"
"Too
bad all I have to wear is my shorts and sweatshirt."
I said looking at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.
"Mademoiselle,
my name is Annick DuBois. I am
here to help with the final arrangements."
I heard another voice say. This
voice was soft and modulated with its French accent.
I turned to see a woman dressed in a very stylish suit.
"Are you ready?"
"Ready?"
"For
me to dress you," she said softly.
"Dress
me?" I asked dumbfounded.
"I think I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself."
"I
am sure you are, Miss Burton." She
said smiling. She reached out and
took my newly manicured hand and led me back into the bedroom portion of the
suite. Ruby and her girls were
talking and laughing as they cleaned up after themselves.
"But for a dress such as this one, it will need some
work."
"What dress?" I asked suspiciously eyeing the beautiful, deep blue satin foundation garments laid out on the bed.
"The
custom made Vera Wang," she said gesturing towards the blue dress from
the shop in New York. It was
stunning even just on a hanger and sitting on the floor next to it were the
matching shoes. "Mr. Hanson
said that the dress fit like a glove at your last fitting, but that you might
have lost some weight."
"That isn't my dress," I said flatly.
"Oh,
but it is," Annick said softly. "If
you could please take off your robe."
"What?"
I said my eyes growing wide.
"Take
off your robe and I'll help you dress."
She said again.
"I
know how to get dressed," I answered pulling the robe tightly around me.
"To
be sure," she said picking up the panties.
"But, we don't want to mess up your perfect hair and
newly painted nails. And really,
I do this all the time. Celebrities
are much like the French Aristocracy of the eighteenth century, they expect to
be served in this way."
"But
I'm not a celebrity," I protested.
"Understood,
but trust me, I will get no thrill from seeing you naked."
Annick said softly. "I've
seen them all and really, it is just flesh."
"Okay," I loosened the belt on the robe and took a deep breath. Taylor, Jarrod and my OB were the only people I had been this naked in front of since I was a little girl. But, as I dropped the robe, Annick didn't react at all. She simply held the panties out for me to step into.
Quickly,
much quicker than if I did it myself, she had me fully trussed up in a merry
widow and a strapless bra. "Okay,
for the dress, you will step into it then I will pull the straps up and over
your shoulders. Once I get it on,
I will secure it at certain points to your foundation garments, this will
eliminate any shifting or puckering."
She wasn't kidding about the fastening either.
She whip-stitched the dress to the merry widow in several
places. "Now, you will need
some help getting out of this tonight. Just
have your companion pull on this string here and all of the stitching will
come loose."
"It
will?" I asked my eyes
growing wide with concern. I am such a klutz, I can see myself simply
adjusting and pulling all of the tiny, tight stitches out.
"That sounds dangerous..."
"The stitches are very secure," Annick said a smile on her face. "And really, it takes more than a gentle tug to release the stitches."
"Okay," I answered. I wasn't completely sure that she had an idea of how truly accident-prone I can be. And of course, I was going to be with Taylor. He once said he could break things you’d never imagine could be broken and he was right. "The thing I'm worried about is the shoes. I'm not very graceful."
"You'll
be fine. It's amazing how
graceful a person can become when dressed as you are."
She assured. Lifting
first one foot then the other, she quickly did the straps around my ankle.
"And, these shoes are very well made.
The way they fit your feet will absolutely help you walk.
Just concentrate on where you are going, not where you're
stepping."
"That
sounds like a recipe for disaster."
I mumbled as she smoothed some lotion with shining flecks in it onto my
legs.
"Instead
of actual stockings, I've opted for a lotion that will add shine and show off
your fantastic legs."
"My
ankle will look great as the doctor casts it."
I sighed.
"You're
going to be fine," she said as she stood again.
"I've seen lots of custom made dresses but few custom
made shoes."
"Ironically, none of this was custom made for me," I said.
"Really?
They fit so perfectly..."
"No, they were actually off the rack." I closed my eyes and remembered the afternoon in the shop. The way the dress had basically called my name. I knew I could never, ever afford it for one thing. But the sales woman had seen how much I loved it. Even at the dress shop with greasy hair and no makeup it had made me beautiful. And it had made Taylor's eyes glow.
"Off
the rack Vera Wang... incredible."
She said gently brushing off the dress with a soft camel hairbrush.
"I mean, I know that she does have a line that is sold in higher
end shops, but a dress of this caliber...
Someone must have commissioned it then changed their mind cause this is
a handmade work of art."
"It's
so beautiful," I sighed spinning gently, loving the heavy feel of the
beaded bottom swirling around my legs. I
stopped in front of the full-length mirror.
I didn't even really look like myself, but then again, I
looked completely like myself. The
dress was so beautiful... The
only thing it was missing was Taylor standing beside me to make his eyes
impossibly blue. "Thank you
for making me beautiful."
"No,
you are beautiful," she said as she gathered her accoutrements.
"You are like a work of art, gorgeous on you own...
I am just the craftsman that adds the final touch such as a frame for a
painting or a garden for a statue."
"Thank you so much." I said walking her to the door. When she opened it, I fully expected to see Taylor standing there in his tuxedo with a rose in his hand. He would reach down into his pocket and pull out my ring and hold it out to me. Instead, there was an empty hallway. Perhaps he had other things planned for me.
I
began the interminable process of waiting.
At first, I tried to watch television.
But on my fourth pass through all fifty-eight channels, I knew it was
fruitless. I walked over to the
sliding glass door and pulled it open. But
the heat was unbearable and the wind was beginning to blow.
So, I settled on pacing back and forth.
I moved from room to room in the suite, checking the clock on the front
of the VCR over and over again. I
must have checked the time three hundred times in fifteen minutes.
I was beginning to panic again, when I heard the elevator door ding
open. I took a deep breath,
holding it. Willing the footsteps
to stop in front of my door.
I heard someone stop. The hesitation between the stop and the knock caused my heart to skip a few beats. I walked over to the door open wondering what I would see through the peephole. I hoped it was another goodie Taylor had planned for me, cause the hesitation was not a good sign if it was him. I placed my eye against the peephole to see Taylor standing there with his hands in his pockets studying his shoes. He slowly pulled a hand out of a pocket and tapped gently on the door. I smoothed my hand needlessly over the dress.
I yanked the door open, expecting to see Taylor dressed in his best.
Immaculate from head to toe as only he can look.
I smiled at him and saw the glow of me reflected in his eyes.
But all too quickly the glowing look faded and melted into a look of
true sadness. He looked away down
the hall. "Tay?"
"Hey," he said sticking his hands in his pockets, deep into his pockets. It was then I realized he was still in his jeans, with a ratty shirt with a ridiculous scarf on considering how warm it was outside. "I was going to come up here and sweep you off your feet..."
"You're not now?" I asked feeling panic rise quickly.
"No,"
Taylor said walking into the room. "So,
you can change, the flight leaves in about an hour."