Change

I sat on the couch in the living room, my eyes somewhat on Extreme Makeover on the tv. I was trying to distract myself from my cell phone, which was beside me on the couch. But it seemed to be calling me - no pun intended - and I caved. I grabbed it for what seemed like the third time in as many seconds. I stared at the message in my phone, debating whether or not to send a text back. Well, the question wasn't really whether or not to send one back... It was more wondering when was long enough between texts. I didn't want to look desperate.

I let out a groan, falling back against the couch and letting my phone fall against my stomach. I was not doing this right now. I couldn't believe myself. This was an awkward, preteen thing! I glared down at my phone. Stupid technology and it's lightning fast communication abilities.

I typed back a 'hey' and sent it before I could change my mind. The key was not to over-think, I reminded myself.

I was texting Taylor.

We had exchanged numbers at the store that morning, and Taylor had texted me a few minutes ago saying hi. I was oddly excited at the prospect of having his number. But over-thinking the time between texts and making sure what I said was perfect was not necessary. I needed to remember that. I had long since passed that adolescent stage.

My phone buzzed and I flipped it open.

I was beginning to think you had given me a fake number.

I almost laughed out loud. I really had been putting too much thought into this. My heart fluttered and I bit back my smile as I realized: he was waiting for my texts back. I wasted no time in replying after that.

I would never.

I settled against the couch again, watching as the family on tv told their story. I began to calm down a bit, answering Taylor's text without having spas attacks, but still getting butterflies when his name popped up on my screen.

About halfway into the show, I opened my phone to find a message that had my mind spinning and my stomach in overdrive.

Do you want to come over and hang out?

It took me two seconds to stand up and head towards my front door in a split second decision.

There would be no harm in seeing him again.

***

"I was thinking we could maybe watch a movie?"

I nodded, following Taylor through the front rooms of his house. I was surprised; I didn't remember any of his house from that party years ago. The other day, I had only gone up to the front door. I hadn't had to see inside, so that had been okay. But on my drive over, I had realized that I would have to go inside, and the prospect of the fact had scared me. I had almost turned around, but for some reason - probably the thought of Taylor's eyes - I was here. And I was fine.

I began to relax. "What about NHL 11? Do you have it?"

He turned to me and grinned. "Obviously."

I laughed. "Let's play that first."

He nodded in agreement, seemingly pleased with my suggestion. He headed into the kitchen then down a set of stairs into the basement. I stopped at the top, where the linoleum met the carpeted steps, my heart rate rapidly increasing.

And I panicked.

Taylor poked his head back in the door, one eyebrow raised. "You coming? Or do you plan on playing from there?" He grinned, but when I didn't respond, his smile faded. 

I gripped the side of the doorframe to try and gain some steadiness. You're okay, I assured myself. 

"You okay?" his voice was worried.

I composed myself enough to give Taylor a slight smile. 

"Perfect," I replied. I placed my hand on my stomach. "Just felt a bit sick. Must have ate something bad."

Taylor looked unconvinced, but he nodded anyway. He looked at me pointedly, and I took a deep breath before heading down the stairs. 

I kept telling myself that it would be okay, but as I took the last step onto the flat, carpeted basement floor, my routine of reassuring thoughts collapsed. 

"So... We... NHL..."

I barely heard Taylor. I was frozen in place.

The layout was exactly the same as it had been three years ago. The couch was turned to the left in front of the tv, and the shelves that held the DVD's and movies was still against the far wall. The only thing missing was alcohol, loud music and crowding teenagers. Memories flooded my brain like a raging river in a storm, and I instantly felt queasy.

"Ronnie?" Taylor's worried voice cut through my raging thoughts. "Are you okay?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still see it. I could almost even hear it. The teenagers, most of them drunk, being incredibly loud and boisterous. I was overwhelmed, and I hurried into the bathroom. I was about to close the door behind me, when a hand stopped it. Taylor pushed his way in and closed the door behind him. I was scared. I was sober, but Taylor sure as heck wasn't. 

He wordlessly grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me towards him, and-

"Ronnie." My eyes shot open and I gasped. Taylor's face was in front of mine. I pushed him away, my heart racing. I stood up and turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. I was shaking, and I felt stupid. It was a long time ago, I reminded myself. You shouldn't be this emotional over it. But I still couldn't shake the sick feeling. A tear slid down my cheek, and I wiped it away hastily. I felt completely out of control with my emotions, and all I wanted was to get out of there.

"Um..." my voice trembled and I cleared my throat. "I think... I don't feel well, I'm going to go." I turned to head to the stairs. I was in the front foyer when I heard him walk in behind me. I started to put on my shoes, my back still to him. I knew he was there, but he was silent for a moment.

"Ronnie." He finally spoke up. When I didn't respond, he repeated, "Ronnie. Look at me."

I wiped my eyes and stood up from tying my sneakers. I looked at him slowly.

"Nobody gets sick that quickly." His eyes were accusing, and I bit my lip. He squinted at me. "Are you crying?" He instantly looked worried as he took notice of my wet cheeks. He swore under his breath, taking a step towards me. "Crap, Ronnie, why are you crying?"

I shook my head before shrugging. "I don't know," came my tiny reply.

"I know a lot of girls cry for nothing, but I didn't peg you as one of those girls."

My shoulders slumped and I ran a hand through my hair. I sighed. "Do you remember the party you invited me to, during grade 11?"

Taylor's brow furrowed in thought. He seemed to really think about it.

"You had one here," I continued, "and you and your friends wanted to embarrass me. I thought you were just being nice." I heard Taylor inhale a sharp breath as I stared at the floor. "You were drunk, and you.. Um, you kissed me," I said quietly. I heard Taylor swear again under his breath. "You kissed me down there. In your basement. And then you told everyone I made it up, and-"

"I remember."

I nodded, my eyes still on the ground. "That was my, um," my cheeks burned red. "That was my first kiss." Taylor didn't say anything, and I shrugged. I met his eyes with what I was certain was an unconvincing smile. His dejected blue eyes looked so disappointed that it surprised me. My heart sank, and I quickly said, "No harm done." But even saying it out loud sounded like a lie. My face fell, and I cleared my throat. "I'll see you later." I turned the doorknob and rushed outside.