Alyssa and I walk into the restaurant and stop at the empty hostess stand, a Please Wait To Be Seated sign fills the space to it's right. I don't bother to wait for someone in all black to greet us. Instead I grab Alyssa's shirt and pull her through an arched doorway to the left. My dad has sat at the same exact table in the back room of this restaurant every single time we have been here, which is a lot. If I didn't know any better, I would think he was a part of the Columbus mob scene. Except for the fact that we aren't Italian, and I don't think Columbus actually has any organized crime families.

We cross through part of the dining room and then make a right towards the very back of the building. As we do, the room opens up to reveal a mixture of booths and round tables all covered with white tablecloths and a place setting at every seat. The room is dimly lit, and a soft instrumental soundtrack creates an ambiance in the background. It's seven pm on a Saturday, so almost every table is occupied by people in overly expensive designer clothes. My father has always preferred the finer things.

Stepping further into the room, I look to my right and spot him right away. My dad is sitting in his own expensive looking suit, at a round table. We make eye contact and he stands to greet us. To his left is my brother, who stands alongside my father, his little shadow. Something totally expected. It's the person to Cal's left that I wasn't expecting. My mouth goes dry, and I find myself making over necessary eye contact with a man sitting over my father's shoulder. So long that he winks at me, probably thinking I'm interested but really I'm trying to communicate that I need him to save me.

"Ladies, welcome! You must be Alyssa." My father says, shaking her hand. I am genuinely surprised that he remembers her name, but I guess his job probably requires him to hold the same personal skills as a teacher. Like having the ability to remember hundreds of names after meeting someone one time. The skills I assume he uses when attempting to recruit new players to join his cult. Alyssa returns the pleasantries, reaching out and shaking his hand before my father turns to Cal and his guest.

"And Callan tells me that the two of you have met, but girls this is Taylor Reed. I invited him to join us as well." my father adds. Taylor surprises me again when he stands and walks around the table to where we are standing. He's dressed in a light blue suit, probably the one he wore into the stadium today before the game. The color reminds me of the shade of his beloved bluejeans, but his typical attire wouldn't cut it in place like this.

Taylor reaches out and shakes Alyssa's hand, causing her to melt immediately. She continues to smile between Cal and Taylor as if this is a fantasy she's imagined a hundred times. I want to kick her, snap her out of it, but I would probably make her cry again.

Taylor however, doesn't seem to notice Alyssa's crazed look, or he just doesn't care. Probably the latter, considering it has to be normal for him to elicit such reactions in women. Instead, he ignores her and turns to me, reaching down where my hands remain at my sides. He slides his warm palm into one of mine, curling his fingers slightly. I don't pull back, apparently forgetting how to move my limbs. My breath however, betrays me. Hitching, catching in my throat as Taylor uses my hand in his to pull me closer to him. Close enough so he can whisper to me, but far enough away not to look suspicious to our audience.

"We have gotta stop meeting like this, Miss Quinn," Taylor whispers and I thankfully regain control of my body when his voice reminds me of who I am dealing with. Instead of giving in and looking at him, into his eyes the way I know he wants me to, I find the man over my father's shoulder again. Taylor is fucking with me, just like we're in the confines of the tutoring room. Well two can play this game, I think.

"You mean at all?" I whisper back, returning a tight lipped smile and removing my hand from his, stepping away and taking my seat at the table. Cal moves over one seat, leaving me in between him and my father. This would not normally be my choice, but anything to distance myself from Taylor is welcomed. Alyssa gladly slides in next to Taylor, still adoringly looking between all three men at the table.

I wait for someone to begin talking, waiting for my father to start interrogating me about my life, his favorite dinner topic, but it's Taylor who speaks up first. "Actually sir, Ryn and I have already met. She's my tutor at McGregor." As Taylor takes a sip of his water I study him from a distance. His long hair is slicked back from his face, a sign that it's still wet from his post game shower. He didn't play today, it makes me wonder if he even dressed for the game. I made a diligent effort to not look for him on the sidelines today, not wanting to give him anymore space inside my mind. I watch him again now, as he plays with the stem of his water glass, running his fingers up and down.

"I was just about to ask which of my boys were her latest victims." My father chuckles. I find it really hard to believe that my father, see-er and hearer of all had no idea that was the case. He has his own dossier on each of his players, they just have no idea. I wouldn't be surprised at all if he was the one to ensure Taylor got assigned to me. His motive for doing so isn't clear, but could possibly just be my father's way of trying to cause me even more pain, both mental and physical.

And the way he says victims should affect me, but it doesn't. As if being subjected to spending time with me is a form of torture in itself. I bite my lip, and instead let myself think of all the ways I would actually go about torturing someone. .

"It's been good so far coach, she keeps me in line. You've raised a real drill sergeant." Taylor says to the table but his eyes flicker to me. He acts like he's scratching his head but then slyly salutes at me.

I feel slightly inclined to add that Taylor isn't a total idiot so I don't feel the need to pull my hair out every second like I do with Ethan from the men's volleyball team but instead I just nod and agree, the safest answer for the party at the table.

"Yeah it's been fine." I say and then scratch my nose with my middle finger in Taylor's direction.

"Excellent!" my father bellows and then goes on to ask Alyssa more questions about where she is from and what she is studying. Cal and Taylor fall into a conversation about today's game, and I stay silent, half listening to bits and pieces of information from each side. I find myself absentmindedly stealing glances at Taylor after every few words, and every time he's already looking at me. Just like on the balcony, just like at the tutor center. I can't tell if it's part of the game he's playing, or if it's the type of psychological effect, he feels me looking at him so his eyes curiously look back. I pick my menu up and slide further into my seat to study it. Giving myself a physical barrier between myself and a cowboy with a death wish. I reread the words Chicken Florentine for the sixth time, when I swear I feel something brush against my leg. I ignore it, and reread the ingredients to the dish a seventh time for good measure. And to keep myself from spiraling. I don't like what Taylor is doing to me. I mean I don't not like it, but I don't like being messed with, to feel like I don't have control. And everytime he looks at me, my cheeks go hot. A warm red feeling, starting in my stomach and inching up my body like a vine, demanding to be seen.

But in a way, I do welcome the distraction it brings, so when I finally order my meal and hand my menu off to the waiter, I give in to it. When my father does finally turn the conversation onto me, I engage. Giving him the answers he wants to hear, but having a side escape away from it. A silent game of Simon Says breaking out at the table, but only two of us are in on the rules.

Each glance now, is filled with a subtle head tilt or eyebrow raise. And then a sip of water mimicked by the other. When our food arrives each bite I take is followed up with a bite on Taylor's behalf. At one point I announce my need to empty my bladder. In the bathroom I allow myself a few deep breaths, and a reminder to get it together. But when I exit the bathroom, I run into someone. Totally not keeping it together.

"What the hell!" I say placing my palms on his chest to keep from crashing into him completely.

"Oh I thought you wanted me to follow you. You gave me the signal." Taylor eyes me, his head tilted down looking directly in my eyes.

"What signal? Why would I want you to follow me to the bathroom?"

"I have a few ideas" he says with a wink as his hands come up to grasp my wrists, I totally forgot my palms were still resting on his chest. His move is subtle, flexing his easy going sexiness. A charm that is God given. Any control I regained through my bathroom mirror pep talk is gone. My cheeks flush once again and I feel my stomach drop. He didn't even say a specific word, but my mind begins to race with thoughts of his hands on me in a way that I know my dad wouldn't approve of. I pull my wrists from his grip and create a step of space between us.

Taylor doesn't back away, instead he takes a step towards me, closing the gap I created moments ago. I can still feel his breath on my skin. His eyes are still staring at me in a way that he might actually kiss me. The next few seconds happen in slow motion. The step forward, a hand raised to my head, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. He leans close, closer and then whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. My skin instantly covers in little tiny bumps, my peach fuzz standing on end.

"I had to pee too" his voice is low and deep. I snap out of the Taylor trance that has taken over my body.

"You're an ass." Is all I can manage. He winks at me and then spins on his heels and walks into the mens bathroom.

I kick myself for thinking that he was actually going to kiss me, that he would actually want to. More worrisome, is the thought that I might actually have wanted him to.

My walk back to the table is just enough time to recompose myself, and to remind myself of who Taylor is and why he's a bad idea. A fact that has seemed to slip my mind this entire evening. Maybe someone slipped something into my water at the pregame party today, making me feel loopy and unlike myself. Or if anything, I'll chalk it up to the heat inducing a daytime fever dream that I was too weak to fight in real time.

Regardless, I made it through the rest of the meal unscathed. We all stand and retreat back through the restaurant, pausing at the hostess stand once more to say our goodbyes. My dad initiates them. "Alyssa, pleasure to meet you." he says with another handshake, so formal. "I hope you will keep an eye on my Rynnie." He finishes it with a wink, playing it off as a joke, when we both know damn well that it isn't.

"Camryn, will you be at brunch tomorrow?" he says turning to me, probably hoping that if he asks in front of the group the chances that I say yes will go up.

"I can't have too much school work."

"Well maybe next week then, I know Katie is looking forward to seeing you soon." my father says, forcing a smile, which I return along with a quick side hug. I give Callan a fist bump and don't bother looking in Taylor's direction.

We make it all the way to the bus stop before Alyssa says anything. "What was that?!" she asks. "Dinner?" I answer.

We sit on the bench and wait for the bus, but she doesn't stop talking. "One, your relationship with your dad, weird. I felt like we were at a business meeting. Everything was so formal. And two, your brother is even cuter when I'm sober which is the reverse of like every other guy and three, Taylor Reed totally wants to have sex with you. He was giving you sex daggers across the table all night."

I eye her in my periphery, not allowing myself to look at her straight on. To let on in any way that I want her to analyze the interaction further with me. She may have proved to be an excellent buffer between me and my family, but my walls are a little higher than that. It's going to take some time for me to start sharing with her, and I'm afraid nine months may not be long enough. I do, however, let myself analyze the interaction and her words. I have no idea what sex daggers are, but I don't think I want them. Especially since the nagging feeling in the back of my head tells me that Taylor buys his sex daggers wholesale, giving him the ability to throw them around frequently.

"Don't make me throw up my fifty dollar chicken. Taylor Reed is not my type. Besides, he's biologically designed to want to have sex with every female. It's the pheromones we produce. They're like nectar to his hummingbird brain." I say.

Glossing right over my comment Alyssa continues with what I can only imagine is a long list of mental notes from the evening, "Why didn't you tell me you tutored athletes? With that AND your brother, you totally have an in. We will get invited to the best parties." Does she seriously think because I make them do their school work and share DNA with one that I suddenly have a Black Card membership to their club? Even if I did, I wouldn't be cashing in on it. I don't answer, instead announcing our bus that approaches, pulling out my student ID, ready to swipe it as payment and end this conversation.

"Ryn no offense, but you're like the worst at girl talk. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Yes, "Nope" I say, pushing towards two empty seats at the back of the bus. Alyssa rolls her eyes as she takes her seat next to me, scooting as far away as possible. It has a waterfall effect on me as I mimic her movements. At this moment I can't help but think our thoughts are synchronized.

This is going to be a long year.