The banquet begins with three more than necessary speakers. All of them indirectly give the exact same speech about this school's football program and how it changed or shaped their lives. That's at least what I was able to pick up through glancing between the stage and Taylor's table. He's seated three whole tables away with his mom and sister and another player whose name I don't know. Each time I look, his eyes are fixed directly on the podium. His jaw is set tightly and his fingers are laced in his lap.

When he finally does look at me, I look away just as quickly. I scramble to the bathroom just as dinner is being served from big trays carried by waiters. The heavy wooden door slams behind me, bringing a gust of cool air with it. I rest my hands on the sink. My head is hung as I take a few deep breaths.

I came into tonight hopeful for the type of reunion with Taylor that would resemble the moments my mom lived for in her romance novels. I was sure that after last night he would be dying for a chance to apologize, to grovel and confirm my suspicions of how he actually feels. Alyssa and Nora both assured me his childish behavior last night was him trying to cope with those feelings. But now all I can hear are the words he whispered to me on Friday night. I don't deserve you has echoed in my brain for the last seventy two hours. I know that Taylor is the type to dwell on his own feelings until it's nearly too late, which is why I need to be the one to make the first move. Just like I had to be the one to lean in first and let my lips brush his. He needed me to give him permission to kiss me back.

But nothing about tonight has encouraged me to actually move forward with my plan. There is an ache in my chest telling me that Alyssa and Nora are wrong. Last night wasn't Taylor's way of coping. Instead, it's a way of telling me that if I put my heart into his hand, raw and beating, he would be the one to make the killing blow.

The door creaks open, but I'm too lost in the tailspin of my mind to look up. It's the touch of a hand on my shoulder that finally pulls me from my thoughts. I look over my shoulder to find Shea with her arms crossed over her chest. She looks absolutely stunning in a floor length red gown with jewel accents on the capped sleeves, another gift from my dad and Katie.

"I'm going to pretend to not be upset that you haven't stopped by to say hi yet," she teases. Her arms quickly unfold and reach for me, pulling me into a hug. I've hugged more this weekend with Taylor's family than I ever have, but something about being in Shea's arms feels almost natural.

When we pull away I look down again. I'm unable to meet her gaze and instead I let my words bounce off the porcelain of the sink before reverberating back to her.

"I was going to, but..." I pause.

But what? The volcano in my mind rumbles with thoughts once more, threatening to revert back to when the worst thoughts I could possibly think would boil to the surface and spill over the rim, putting everyone at risk. I could tell her about how much of an ass her son was to me. About how for months now, he's been sending me mixed signals so strong that transmitters in space could pick up on them, but yet he won't make a move. Should I tell her that I'm sulking in the bathroom because he hurt my feelings? That part of me thinks that maybe it's because he actually doesn't want me? I should be used to not being picked. I claim to want to be independent, to crave it, but right now only patheticism rings in my head.

"But nothing... I'm sorry I've just got a lot up here." I wave a hand over my head.

Shea smiles softly and uses her hands on my shoulders to turn me until I'm completely facing her. She uses a finger to tilt my chin. Her frail hands grasp my arms as she speaks. "You're going to have to say it first. He may be my son, but unlike me, he keeps his cards close to his chest." A wizard disguised as a mom, Shea reads my mind and the situation without any prompting. It's a comfort I haven't felt in a long time, to have someone just know what's wrong without even having to verbalize it. I bite the inside of my cheek in hesitation. It's been too long since I've had a mom to talk to in this way, to ask advice from. I suddenly feel inadequate to even know where to begin. So I just speak the first truth that pops into my head, the way I would with Taylor.

"He's special," I begin. "I can't lie to you. Part of me is scared that he won't feel the same way I do. But the thing that terrifies me the most is losing him as a friend. I just–" I give up, unable to find the words to finish the thought. I don't know if there are any that would convey what his friendship means to me. How could there be when Taylor's presence has been the driving force in stripping me of my shell and creating the type of growth in me that I could have only dreamed of before him.

"Taylor is one of a kind," she chuckles softly. "I don't pretend to take any credit. He's a natural leader and a lover, always has been. It's his instinct to take care of the people who are important to him. And you're important to him whether he says it or not. He's going to take care of you no matter what. I'm just glad he found you. It's about time he has someone who is able to take care of him too." I want to reassure her of the role she has played in his life, but she stops me. "One of the greatest things I've ever done was getting to be his mom, but he came out that way. He will always put others first even if it means sacrificing himself in return. If you haven't noticed, he's in denial about me. He knows I'm sick, but he also ignores just how sick I am. He won't admit that this cancer is going to be what kills me." She talks about it so openly, but I guess when you spend your time in a hospital with doctors telling you as much, you get used to the idea, no need to dance around it.

"And that day is going to come sooner rather than later. He's going to be lost without me. I like to think it's because of how awesome I am, but I know it's because his purpose will be gone. He's going to need someone to reel him back in, to remind him of what he still has. It has to be you Camryn, I need you to love him and take care of him when I can't. Promise me you'll do that?"

Tears have begun to fall down her face and mine instantly mirrors hers. I want to join Taylor in the denial club to pretend she didn't just say those words, that it can't be true that a woman as sweet and kind as her would be brought down by a monster in the form of mutated cells.

I now know why she pushed for this trip so hard even though her doctors were weary at first. It's a final chance to spend time with both her kids before the inevitable. The pieces fall into place as her words from the other night echo in my head. As I left her hotel room the other night she squeezed me tighter than I imagined her little muscles were capable of and whispered in my ear, "You're an angel sent to my family."

I wrap my arms around her again now. I can't dare speak. It would come out sounding more like a whale trying to communicate rather than the, "Of course" I need to give her. I settle instead, for a vigorous nod of my head as I continue to hold onto her like a lifeline.

We stand silently letting the tears fall until Shea demands we pull ourselves together and don't waste anymore of our night hiding in the bathroom. We walk back into the banquet hall hand in hand. She leads me directly to her table, demanding I sit down with her family. I'm in no shape to deny her anything. She could ask me for my colon right now and I would march us both to the campus hospital and demand they do the transplant tonight.

Taylor watches us approach and stands to help his mom back into her seat. It's the closest we've been all night and the electricity pulses like a wave between us. His brows pull in question. He's asking me if his mom is alright, no doubt seeing the remnants of our cry session on our faces.

It just confirms the truth in Shea's words. Taylor is constantly vigilant of where she is and how she's doing. He's the same way with Nora. I'd like to believe that I've earned my own ounce of his watchful eye from him over the past few weeks. I give him a nod, still unable to speak about her. I'm too afraid the tears will flow again and that I'll blow Shea's cover.

I do, however, take a piece of advice from my new mom. I reach out a hand, signaling for him to take it. "It's just a dance, I promise to even keep a full arms distance away from you," I say mimicking my words with my arms. Taylor looks back at his mom who pretends not to see him. I bite back my laugh at how brazen Shea can be when she wants something. Taylor leans forward to kiss her cheek before allowing me to escort him onto the dance floor.

The live band in the corner begins to play a slower melody. The floor slowly fills in with couples young and old, as well as some players and their mothers. We find an opening, and settle into our positions. My right hand finds his left, while his right hand finds my left hip. Together, we begin to move to an instrumental cover of a pop song.

I let my eyes forage through the forest that is Taylor's eyes, but I can't tell if he's just as lost as I am. The same intensity from earlier is present, but I need a map, or at least a trail of breadcrumbs to tell me which direction he wants this to head.

"You're doing a pretty shit job at the whole moping thing," I finally say. Comedic timing has always been my greatest gift and biggest downfall all wrapped in one. The grip Taylor has on my hip grows tighter. His fingers would make a dent into my skin if it weren't for the silk fabric of my dress. It's not what I wanted from him, but it's a start. The right side of his mouth twitches up, tempting me with his dimple. I continue to push him, in hopes that he will break soon.

"The intense stares across the room, the silent treatment. The CW is writing a character for you on their latest teen drama as we speak. You'll probably get paid extra for the tattoo and muscle look you have going on. You're a real teenage wet dream," I ramble.

"You love to hear yourself talk." Taylor pulls me closer, bringing his mouth closer to my ear. The low baritone of his voice vibrates through me, but I easily relax into this new position between us.

I move in even closer. I bridge the small gap between our bodies until we're flush. I can feel the tension leave his body, as if he has been waiting for this moment. His hard body pressed against mine is enough to make me confess how I've wanted to close that gap since I first walked in tonight and saw him standing in his suit. The way his thumb slides back and forth on the back of my hand might even make me reveal how I've thought about his body pressed against mine since I first saw it all those months ago in my brother's apartment.

He has to know by now, but I'll tell him to describe it anyway. The way my skin ignites every time his hands touch my body. That all of my daydreams are filled with his hands sliding over me completely, anywhere he wants, just to see if the electricity stops. Or if with every inch covered, the spark only intensifies. I swallow hard as Taylor continues to watch me. Maybe if I continue to think those thoughts he will read my mind and I'll never have to verbalize them.

We continue to sway, no words spoken between us. I scan the room with each rotation we make. My father and Katie have made their way onto the dance floor. His eyes aren't on us, his body not even facing me, but I can feel him watching. For the first time tonight, I let my thoughts move away from Taylor. I wonder if my father is pleased with what he sees. I wonder if the words he spoke to me the other night in his hotel room were true, if he really wants me to keep on the trajectory I've set for myself. It's just another reminder of how far I've come. The fact that I'm even standing here in my father's presence and I'm not hiding. I actually want to be here, and I want my dad to acknowledge all the new found happiness in my life. I might even want to share it with him.

The song ends just as another begins, but I pull Taylor's hand. To my relief, he doesn't stop me. He allows me to pull him off the dance floor and straight through the open doors at the back of the room. I continue to pull him all the way across the now scarcely populated lobby. Only the workers behind the desk occupy the large space as we pass by. Taylor's grip on my hand strengthens with each step as I lead him down a hallway on the first floor and straight through a doorway, one that leads to an unoccupied conference room.

I push him all the way inside, closing the door quietly behind us hoping to keep our presence undetected. I don't think it's illegal for us to be here, but depending on how things turn out when I spill my truth it might turn into something unsavory.

The motion sensor lights kick on as we move further into the room, but I reach back to the panel on the wall and switch them off again. The only light in the room comes from the sparse rays of streetlights flowing in from outside.

I don't know what my exact plan is, just what I need to say. I rest my palms flat against the door for a few seconds trying to gather up any semblance of an outline to guide me through what my mind obviously thinks can't wait another moment.

I slowly turn around to face him. Taylor is sitting on top of the long conference table that occupies the middle of the room. He has pushed a couple of the executive looking chairs out of his way, leaving them in disarray around the table. His long legs dangle, but still touch the floor. His hands sit interlaced between his legs. He doesn't move or speak, even as I approach him. He does, however, let me settle in between his legs. It's effortless for me, complete muscle memory even though I've only been here in my dreams.

His hands move from his lap and rest behind him on either side of the table. He swallows hard. I watch the knot in his throat bob up and down with nerves.

"Can I ask you a question?" I press. Taylor only nods. "Do you ever think about kissing me?"

Maybe once upon a time we danced around the questions, using them as a way to hide and ease into the real information we were hoping to collect. It was a safety net for the brutal honesty to build its way to the surface. But we don't need the safehaven anymore, not now.

"Camryn," he says my name like a warning.
"Because I can't stop thinking about kissing you. Even before I kissed you at the bonfire. I've spent weeks around you, exhausting myself with trying to think about anything else. The way your hands would feel on my skin." I grab his hands and mimic my words. Starting at my hips, I guide them up my torso. "Slowly making their way from my sides up into my hair. I've pictured it every way, Taylor. Every way you would do it and every time my mouth goes dry and I feel like I can't breathe because I know it would be fucking amazing."

I pull his palms away from me and place a kiss on each of them before moving them back to my hips. And just like the visions in my head, it's intoxicating. It fills me until I'm drunk on the desire. He exhales deeply.

"So I just want to know...if it's been killing you, like it's been killing me. If all of the looks and the touches are what I think they are." I lean further into him. His hands move further down the slope of me pulling me even closer.

"You shouldn't have done that, Camryn," He says, his voice deep and thick like molasses.

"Yeah." I exhale, "But I really wanted to. And I really want to do this." I lean into him until our mouths are inches apart. I look into his eyes one last time, looking for any signs that this is unwelcome on his part. He doesn't flinch, so I move in further, letting our lips meld together.

The kiss is soft, gentle, sweet, just like the first time. It's Taylor, however, who deepens it. His hands mimic exactly what I had fantasized, slowly dragging up my side resting to cradle my face in his hand. His tongue begs for access to my mouth and I let him in gladly. He pulls me closer to him, I can feel him grow against my hip. His mouth pulls away from me long enough to find my neck. His lips leave a trail from my collar bone to my ear.

A moan escapes me. Breathless I murmur, "Taylor, I've wanted this. I've wanted you."

But just as fast as it began, Taylor stops. He uses his hands to move me off of him and to the side as he stands up from the table. He adjusts the erection in his pants. I cross my arms in front of myself, suddenly feeling naked in front of him.

"I want this...God, Camryn you have no idea. But I can't, I..." Taylor presses the pad of his thumb to my lips. I wonder if he can feel them trembling.

"I just... I have too much going on with my mom and football. I want to be someone who deserves you. And I think I could be... I just can't be that right now. I–" He stumbles over his words again. I don't dare say anything, for fear that it will just come out as tears and gibberish.

"You're someone who deserves to be chosen. I can't be selfish with you, I can't choose you right now." He stops again and runs his hands over his hair. I want to say I can see the pain behind his eyes, that it's so palpable I can feel it, but I might just be confusing it with the ache in my own chest. "I have to wait until the season is over. It would just give me time to figure things out." He cradles my cheeks in his hands again. His eyes search mine for my answer, for my doubts.

I want to question him further, interrogate him until he confesses what he could possibly need to figure out. How the hell is he going to talk about timing right now? Right when the timing couldn't be more perfect for both of us. Both on the verge of getting everything we've been working towards. The only thing that is left is this. The games were finally going to come to an end.

But his mom pops back into my head. Not the fact that she's going to die soon, but the fact that Taylor will do anything to put the people he loves needs first. Is that what he's doing? Putting his family first? Does he think that if he chooses me that I would move to first place in his mind? Or is he not letting himself have what he truly wants just because he thinks he doesn't deserve this?

His thumbs continue to caress the skin of my cheeks, like he's trying to catch the tears that he's causing. Taylor curses under his breath. I still can't form words, instead I break free from his hold and push through the conference room doors panting through swollen lips.

What I thought was a newfound fearlessness when I brought him in here has turned into a new kind of confusion I've never felt before. The Camryn that first met Taylor wouldn't have done that, wouldn't have gone for what she wanted for fear of how it would make her look. She wouldn't have done it for the sole fact that it could turn out exactly the way it just did.