Noah

Scalding heat rushes through me at the sight of Tay, an intense desire to capture those full, inviting lips. I sway under the overwhelming want and take a panicked step back. The movement breaks the spell between us, and I shy away. To regain my composure, I dampen another paper towel at the sink. I catch myself in the mirror, with flushed cheeks and a dark, heated gaze I’ve never seen on myself. I blink it away before I turn back to Tay, who quickly closes his eyes as if he was staring at me and is desperate not to get caught.

His breathing is uneven and quick when I continue cleaning his face.

He is straight. He is straight. He is straight. I repeat the mantra in my head, though it never quite reaches my heart.

Tay clears his throat and, with a slight stutter, he says, “Y-you should have told me that my face was a mess.”

“You were in the middle of working with the kids, you would have just gotten your face stained again, even if you had cleaned it.” And it looks cute. I barely manage to swallow the words.

He sighs. “No wonder my mom looked like she wanted to berate me.”

My eyes narrow. “Is she very strict about your looks?”

He mumbles something under his breath that even up close, I can’t understand.

“What?”

“Never mind. Stop rubbing so hard,” he then complains.

I hastily soften my touch that has unintentionally tensed. He obviously doesn’t want to continue the topic and distracts me with a question. “Where is your sister, by the way? Shouldn’t she be suffering with us?”

I smile. “She has orchestra rehearsals on Saturdays.”

“Oh, right, she plays the violin, doesn’t she? I still remember the sweet sounds of her violin practice at your place, back when we were kids.”

“If by sweet you mean horrendous, sure.”

We laugh, and Tay opens one eye to look at me. “I can take care of the rest.”

I blink and remove the paper towel from his face. There are no stains left, but how long they’ve been gone, I can’t say. I step back and throw away the towels, trying to look more composed than I feel.

“I’m surprised you remember that,” I say as I wash my hands. 

“It’s hard to forget,” Tay responds. “In fact, there is a tinnitus in my ear from time to time, that sounds disturbingly like Olly’s violin.”

I cackle. “I’m stealing that.”

“Sure, but don’t quote me. I only just got her to like me, and I don’t want to suffer through another round of Barbie and the dancing fairy nutcrackers or whatever the movies are called.”

My loud laughter comes along with a fair share of gloating. “Why, now I should tell her. I can’t be the only one to know every single movie by heart.”

Tay stills and mouths, By heart?

I nod darkly and Tay shivers. I close the tap, finally with clean hands, and dry them before handing Tay a towel. 

“Actually, the days when Olly practiced her violin were my favorite,” I confess.

Tay eyes me. “Wow. I didn’t know you had a penchant for torture.”

Have I mentioned that I love Tay’s snide remarks? He might come across as sunny and friendly, but there is a layer of snark and quick wit hidden underneath that he doesn’t let you glimpse often. 

I shake my head at his question and smile. “No. It was the only time my mother allowed me to go to the park and play without having to beg her for hours. It was one of the rare times when I could go out to meet you on the playground where you had taken permanent residency.”

“You make it sound like I was the mafia boss of the playground.”

“Well, am I wrong? I remember coming to the park one day and all the kids were involved in playing house, but with oddly intricate roles that could have rivaled any telenovela.”

Tay grins, “Oh, I remember. You were too late and I gave you the role of the pregnant family dog because I was angry.”

“You said it was because it was a vital role in the game,” I accuse and hold the bathroom door open for Tay, who shrugs in passing. “I told you, I can be quite resentful.”

I chuckle and follow him back to the info booth outside. Our last task of the day.

We put away the remaining goodies and flyers and stack the boxes in a neat pile. In between, Tay and I share some more memory fragments accompanied by more laughter and barbs. It doesn’t take nearly as long as the setup, and soon, we make our way back to my car, much to Tay’s relief. 

“H-hurry up!”

I chase after him and press the key fob from afar, so Tay can dive into the passenger seat. A few seconds later, I catch up, but before I sit in the driver's seat, I get a blanket out of the trunk. Once inside, I hand Tay the blanket and turn on the seat heating. 

“You should really pay more attention to outside temperatures. Why did you wear such a light jacket?”

Tay throws me a sharp look, but it holds no power because of his chattering teeth. “I-if you are d-done nagging, w-would you start the c-car?”

I roll my eyes at him, but do as I'm told. I turn on the radio while Tay is lost in thought, snuggled into the blanket and staring out the window. Even though it’s the same setting as this morning, somehow the atmosphere isn’t frigid. It’s a comfortable silence that doesn’t clamor to be filled.

My thoughts inevitably return to Tay’s comment about my dismissiveness. The earlier trip down memory lane planted a ridiculous idea in my head that I now somehow can’t seem to shake off. An idea born of the desire to be better. For Tay.

When we get closer to our neighbourhood, I impulsively switch lanes and take a left turn. At first, Tay doesn’t notice, but a minute later, he stirs. 

“Are you taking some shortcut I don’t know about? Or have you forgotten that you need to drive me home first?”

“We are not going home.”

There is a short silence while I steer the car towards my first stop.

“I expected my first kidnapping to be a bit more momentous,” Tay pipes up.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not abducting you. Your future kidnapping is still full of potential.”

Tay is about to reply, but instead he wriggles out of the blanket and leans forward when he sees our destination. “Food!”

I chuckle as I steer the car towards the drive-through. “My treat.”

“Really?” Apparently, Tay warms up as quickly as he freezes, and he discards the blanket while announcing his fast-food choices.

Once we are back on the street with a bagful of food, I still don’t head towards his home, however, and he speaks up again. “Don’t tell me, now I am being kidnapped.”

“Correct. I just didn’t want to kidnap you in a hungry state, cause that would have made the whole venture an insufferable ordeal.”

There is no answer. I can hear the bag rustling. 

“Are you stealing my fries?”

“Mm? Not at all,” Tay muffles in a tone that implies he is absolutely stealing my fries.

“I specifically asked you if you wanted fries. You said no. I asked you twice.”

There is more rustling. “Taylor Kamper, I swear to god if you-hmph.”

My words are cut short by Tay, who swiftly stuffs a few fries into my mouth. I grumble under my breath and chew. Taylor uses the enforced silence to ask, “Are you ever going to tell me where we are going?”

I swallow. “No need, we are already here.”

I steer the car into a gravel parking lot next to the very park we were talking about earlier. 

Taylor looks around and turns towards me, his expression a treasure trove of joy, excitement, and scepticism that tells me I’m doing the right thing.

“You’re kidding.”