The Way to Game the Walk of Shame(63)

She turned to me with a little smirk. “Rudy, huh? I guess I know who your car’s named after now.”

“Yeah, well…” I didn’t continue. She was right, but I couldn’t help feeling a little stupid. I mean, who names their car after a dead sea turtle? Instead, I turned and headed for the center seats, plopping down on the bench. My feet kicked my book bag beneath the seat. “My dad brought me here for the first time on my eleventh birthday. I loved it so much that he bought us a frequent pass, and we’d come back here every few weeks after that. You know, when he wasn’t in jail.”

“You know, you say that so casually,” Taylor said, sitting next to me. “It doesn’t bother you that he goes—that he’s in there a lot?”

“No. Not as much as it should.” I stretched out my legs on the seat in front of me. “It annoys me whenever Brandon mentions it, but that’s because he’s always trying to prove that he’s superior to us.”

“But he’s not.”

“Hell, no.”

She gazed at me for a long moment before changing the subject. “It’s strange how they could be so peaceful together in there. They’re all swimming with the sharks.” Her hands waved around to emphasize her point. “If I were the sea turtles, I’d be scared out of my mind in there.”

“Well, they get fed regularly, so there’s no danger of the sharks eating them.” I leaned an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, if we could get along, then why can’t they?”

“That’s true. Here I am, alone with you, and I’m not scared at all.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re more like the shark than any other animal in that tank,” I teased.

Taylor laughed. “Whatever. You’re more dangerous than anyone I know.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you in danger of?”

She stared at me for a moment before raising an eyebrow and turning back to the tank. “Nah, you’re right. I am the shark.”

“Told ya.”

I watched for any indication that she was bored so we could leave, but she didn’t seem to mind being here. In fact, she slipped off her shoes, sat cross-legged, and leaned back on her hands, looking like she didn’t mind staying here forever. I know I didn’t.

Letting out a deep breath, I tried again. “So are you ever going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Her lips pursed together into a tight line, and Taylor shook her head. “It’s just … college stuff that’s stressing me out. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Not sure if she was telling me the truth, I leaned back against her side and nodded, just glad that she wasn’t mad at me anymore. And she had been stressing about being wait-listed for a while. Maybe someone else had gotten in or something. The people at Columbia were idiots for not accepting her in the first place. Taylor was amazing.

“Do you ever wonder if we’d be friends if it weren’t for that stupid party?” I didn’t know why that question popped out, or why the answer was important to me, but it was.

“Probably not.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and smiled. “You’re kind of an ass.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

“That’s okay. I’m kind of a shrew.”

“Kind of?” I threw up my hands when her eyes narrowed. “All right, kind of is right, I guess.”

Her lips curved in the first genuinely happy smile I’d seen from her all day, the kind that was so wide it practically covered her small face, and suddenly the world seemed brighter. Though it was probably because of the sun setting right through the window by the front entrance.

“Do you remember that night? I don’t remember much of it.”

Not much, but some bits and pieces had come back to me every once in a while. Awesome bits and pieces. “Yeah, you say a lot of weird stuff when you’re drunk.”

“I did?” Taylor groaned and her arms swung up to cover her face. “God, I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what did we—what did we talk about?”

If I were a nice guy, I would have lied and spared her the details. I wasn’t going to, though. It was too hilarious to forget. “Nothing much. You told me about your love for blue cotton candy and how you’re rotten and mean on the inside. Oh, and you told me that you have dirty thoughts all the time, and then you hit me.”

Her head slowly lifted, eyes wide with shock and horror. “What?” She sounded hoarse and strangled.

“You did. Right here.” I solemnly nodded and pointed to my right cheek. “I’m surprised you didn’t see the red mark.”

“And what about … the other stuff?”

“Oh, you mean the dirty stuff?” I smirked. “Well, it was pretty cold, so I couldn’t take off my clothes like you wanted me to, but I did let you feel me up above the waist. I drew the line at the pants, though. I’m not that kind of guy. You have to take me out to dinner first.”

Her hand moved so fast that I almost didn’t see it. Almost. I shielded my head with my arms, but she was still able to smack me right by my left ear. The other couple and some workers were starting to stare at us. “Ouch! I’m sorry! Next time I will take off the pants!”