Crosby helped Taylor carry up her suitcases, and boxes up to her room. She
hadn't been assigned to a roommate. Her room was smaller than everyone
else's, and she questioned to herself many times if everything would fit.
Taylor took out her bed sheets and made her bed as Crosby went downstairs and outside to bring in another bag and box. There was a knock on the already open door. A blonde haired girl, about her height stood in the opening.
"Hi." She said with a small southern drawl.
"Hey." Taylor said, putting the pillow down on its place on her bed.
"I'm Claiborne Thompson." The girl said, "I live across the hall."
"Taylor May."
"Where are you from?"
"New York, you?" Taylor said, moving away from the bed.
"Virginia."
Taylor smiled at the awkward silence. 'Abraham Lincoln.' Thorn would have said, bursting out laughing. That was what he told her to think of if there was ever silence, that way; they'd be thinking the same thing.
"Well, I've got to go say goodbye to my parents. I'll see you a little later." Claiborne said.
"Yeah, see you later." Taylor lifted a bag of clothes onto her bed, and unzipped it, taking out a few pairs of jeans. Crosby came in with a bag hanging from his shoulder, and a box in his arms.
"This is the last of it." He said, putting them both on the floor. "Who was that?"
"Claiborne Thompson.lives across the hall." Taylor said, hanging another pair of jeans up in her closet.
"Oh." Crosby sat on her bed and watched her as she carefully straightened each pair of pants she hung over a hanger. He looked beside him at her open suitcase. "I don't know how you wear these things." He said, picking up a blue thong, "doesn't it get in the way?"
Taylor turned around, and snatched it out of his hand. She knew what he was doing. trying to turn a simple conversation into something sexual. She picked up the rest of her underwear and put them into her dresser. "You don't have to be mad. I was only kidding." Crosby said. Taylor didn't say anything. She shut the dresser drawer. "Tay." Crosby walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Do you still have that bikini you wore in St. Barts? The black one, with the red strings?"
Taylor didn't know why she let him touch her. His smell was intoxicating. That dirty, musty, boyish smell that no matter how many times you denied its appealing, it always smelled amazing. She licked her lips, though he couldn't see, and nodded.
Crosby leaned in, resting his lips against the top of the back of her head. He inhaled the scent of her hair, a mixture of vanilla, strawberries, and champagne. "Will you wear it for me soon?" He asked, his right hand sliding down her arm, and grasping her hand, "please?" He growled against her ear, causing Taylor to fall back against his lean frame.
She nodded, and Crosby's left arm fell off her shoulder and slid against her thigh, rubbing his hand up towards her crotch.
"Promise?" He asked again, this time bending his head down and kissing her earlobe softly. Taylor once again nodded.
"Say it." He growled, "Say you'll promise."
Taylor's mouth was agape slightly, and she moaned out the words, "I promise," just as Crosby's hand rested firmly against her hot center.
She could feel him smile against her head. He let her go from his grasp, and Taylor returned to unpacking her clothes. Crosby sat on her bed, looking through a pile of pictures.
Moments later, Thorn was standing at the open doorway.
Taylor took out her bed sheets and made her bed as Crosby went downstairs and outside to bring in another bag and box. There was a knock on the already open door. A blonde haired girl, about her height stood in the opening.
"Hi." She said with a small southern drawl.
"Hey." Taylor said, putting the pillow down on its place on her bed.
"I'm Claiborne Thompson." The girl said, "I live across the hall."
"Taylor May."
"Where are you from?"
"New York, you?" Taylor said, moving away from the bed.
"Virginia."
Taylor smiled at the awkward silence. 'Abraham Lincoln.' Thorn would have said, bursting out laughing. That was what he told her to think of if there was ever silence, that way; they'd be thinking the same thing.
"Well, I've got to go say goodbye to my parents. I'll see you a little later." Claiborne said.
"Yeah, see you later." Taylor lifted a bag of clothes onto her bed, and unzipped it, taking out a few pairs of jeans. Crosby came in with a bag hanging from his shoulder, and a box in his arms.
"This is the last of it." He said, putting them both on the floor. "Who was that?"
"Claiborne Thompson.lives across the hall." Taylor said, hanging another pair of jeans up in her closet.
"Oh." Crosby sat on her bed and watched her as she carefully straightened each pair of pants she hung over a hanger. He looked beside him at her open suitcase. "I don't know how you wear these things." He said, picking up a blue thong, "doesn't it get in the way?"
Taylor turned around, and snatched it out of his hand. She knew what he was doing. trying to turn a simple conversation into something sexual. She picked up the rest of her underwear and put them into her dresser. "You don't have to be mad. I was only kidding." Crosby said. Taylor didn't say anything. She shut the dresser drawer. "Tay." Crosby walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Do you still have that bikini you wore in St. Barts? The black one, with the red strings?"
Taylor didn't know why she let him touch her. His smell was intoxicating. That dirty, musty, boyish smell that no matter how many times you denied its appealing, it always smelled amazing. She licked her lips, though he couldn't see, and nodded.
Crosby leaned in, resting his lips against the top of the back of her head. He inhaled the scent of her hair, a mixture of vanilla, strawberries, and champagne. "Will you wear it for me soon?" He asked, his right hand sliding down her arm, and grasping her hand, "please?" He growled against her ear, causing Taylor to fall back against his lean frame.
She nodded, and Crosby's left arm fell off her shoulder and slid against her thigh, rubbing his hand up towards her crotch.
"Promise?" He asked again, this time bending his head down and kissing her earlobe softly. Taylor once again nodded.
"Say it." He growled, "Say you'll promise."
Taylor's mouth was agape slightly, and she moaned out the words, "I promise," just as Crosby's hand rested firmly against her hot center.
She could feel him smile against her head. He let her go from his grasp, and Taylor returned to unpacking her clothes. Crosby sat on her bed, looking through a pile of pictures.
Moments later, Thorn was standing at the open doorway.