Eliza Jane - In Too Deep

I want to kiss you. In fact, I want to do much more than just kiss you.

Colt had been protecting me. From what?

Oh.

From himself.  From the way he normally uses girls.

But what did that mean? That he liked me only as a friend, and not on par with the type of girls he messes around with? Or was it that he liked me much more than a friend – above being treated with the carelessness he afforded the other girls? God this was confusing.

“What?” MJ asks, stopping mid-brush stroke meeting my eyes in the mirror.

“I can’t tell if he likes me.”

She snorts. “He likes you, Taylor. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She continues brushing my hair while my stomach twists uncomfortably into knots.

Why is Colt interested in me? Is he waiting for my eighteenth birthday? I watch my reflection in the mirror. Even though I’m not exotic or beautiful, my skin is clear, my eyes are bright and I feel pretty. And I’m smart and good with computers. But there’s something deeper at work between Colt and I. Aside from physical attraction and chemistry, he likes me because I stand up to him and call him on his bullshit. That was something new for him – he’d never been with someone like me before. I was like a new color in his box of crayons. The thought both intrigues and depresses me. I like thinking I’m something different, something good for him, but I hate knowing he’ll pick another color when he gets bored.

MJ waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality. “Earth to Taylor.”

“Sorry. Just trying to process all this.”

She shakes her head. “Well process it while putting this on.” She offers me a black halter top of hers. “It’ll look great on you.”

I slip it on, along with my favorite jeans, dressy sandals and grab a light weight sweater for later just in case.

Would I ask him to kiss me tonight? Was I brave enough to handle everything that came with it? Would Colt’s delicious attention be worth my inevitable heartbreak once he was through?

I meet Colt out front where his BMW is parked in the gravel drive. He’s leaning against the side of the car with my door already open. He’s dressed in jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, his hair deliciously disheveled. He looks gorgeous of course. And when he spots me, a satisfied little smile crosses his lips.

When I approach the waiting car door, he leans forward coming in toward my cheek. I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Ah, now, Colt.” I shake my head. “No physical contact. Your rule, not mine.” I keep my face completely composed but my voice drips with sarcasm. I slip past him, sinking down into the inviting leather seat.

The look on his face is priceless. Surprised, playful, and… determined. Bring it. I hear his low chuckle just before he swings the door closed.

He gracefully sinks into the seat beside me, but instead of starting the car and pulling away like I expect, he turns to me and treats me to one of his heart-stopping smiles. His eyes travel over my exposed skin and my bare arms break out in chill bumps under his steady attention.

Oh God, help me…

In no rush, he reluctantly pulls his gaze from me and starts the car. Then he hands me his mp3 player and hits the gas, pinning my back against the seat as he speeds away.

“Hopefully you’re not too hungry. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

I’m intrigued. I look over at him curiously, wondering what he has planned.

“I think I can hang in there for a little while.” I settle back against my seat, studying him from the corner of my eye. Oh this boy does bad things to me. My stomach clenches in anticipation of later, wondering who will crack first with this no contact rule. 

I’d almost blown it already when I bent down to kiss her cheek. And of course Taylor called me on it. I chuckle to myself. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave everything up to her. I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands to myself tonight. I grip the steering wheel harder and floor the gas.

After a little while, we settle into the drive. Taylor flips through my music, playing an eclectic blend to show off, or possibly mock, my diverse tastes, everything from classical to jazz to pop to old school rap.

“So have you decided what to do?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity any longer.

“About?” she prompts, looking up from the mp3 player.

“Whether or not you’re going to stay here?”

“Oh.” Her chin drops.

It’s a strange reaction. Is she afraid to tell me something?

“For now. I can’t leave before I know more and, I guess like you, I’d rather be here keeping my eye on McAllister than to run back home. But I can’t imagine ever doing another assignment he gives me.”

I breathe again, relieved and still worried about her too.

After about fifteen minutes, Taylor grows restless. “So how long of a drive do we have and where exactly are you taking me?” she asks, shifting in her seat.

“It’ll be about an hour. We’re going to my house.”

“Your house?” she looks up at me expectantly.

“Well, my father’s house, I should say. He’s away on business right now though, so we’ll have it to ourselves.”

“Oh.” She pouts out her bottom lip and I grip the wheel tighter, forcing myself to concentrate on the road and not her full mouth.

“I’m going to cook for you.”

“You cook?” she asks, her voice full of surprise.

I nod, smiling. “Not much anymore, but yes.”

She smiles, inspecting me like she’s weighing each new thing she learns about me. “Did your mom teach you?”

“Yes, and Mrs. Lee, our housekeeper, and my nanny growing up. She still works for my father and though she won’t be there tonight, I instructed her to shop for everything I’d need to make you dinner.”

She flushes and looks down.

I wish I knew what she was thinking.

“Thank you. That sounds… nice.” Her voice is soft, just audible over the low music.

Or we could forget about eating and go straight to my bedroom. Or the hot tub. I accelerate, pushing the car faster.

After crossing through the gated entrance, I make my way down the private drive leading to the house.

Taylor leans forward in her seat to look at the houses we occasionally pass, each allocated a large plot of land and standing as impressive as ever.

I haven’t been here in over a year, preferring to stay at the school during breaks rather than here where it feels dead and cold. But on the plus side, it was somewhere I would have Taylor all to myself. 

I can’t believe this is where Colt grew up. His house is a mansion. Literally. He pulls into a long driveway, the house not yet completely in view from the well-manicured landscaping. The driveway is brick and he continues past the front of the house and the rather impressive circular drive with a fountain in the center, and parks behind the house in front of a four stall garage. I’m still in shock when he exits the car and strolls around to help me out.

The house looms in front of us, broad, two stories, Cape Cod style with pale blue clapboard siding, slate stonework and white shutters. It’s beautiful.

He leads me through the back door into a mud room with rows of pale wood lockers and various baskets and benches for storage. It looks like a home organization catalog.

He gives me a tour of the first floor while I struggle to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Large living room, office, family room, formal dining room, a sitting room that he calls a parlor and rolls his eyes, a library and a foyer that could hold half my parents’ house, before finally leading me into the kitchen.

There’s a rustic wood island in the center with six stools. The rest is shiny stainless steel, marble countertops and rich wood. It’s extremely spacious.

“Have a seat.” He motions toward the stools at the island.

I comply, sitting on a stool.

The island is decorated with various bowls and baskets of fruit, whole heads of garlic and fresh baguettes in various sizes.

He grabs a Diet Coke from the fridge and sets it in front of me. I wrap my hands around the coolness of the can, needing to grasp onto something normal in this museum of a house.

“What are you hungry for?” he asks, surveying the fridge.