In a Room Full of People

Taylor noticed, of course, and she just couldn't resist wandering up to me, placing her finger under my chin, and closing my mouth.

"You're drooling all over your momma's rug."

Even mom got in on the act and asked what I had done with my manners. Quickly realizing she was right, I asked what she was doing here. Hey, I'm not quick on the uptake: I'm a male of the species, after all. We adjourned to the conference room, otherwise known as the kitchen table. That's when the real fun started. Both moms looked towards Taylor and let her lead.

"When you told me about Tony it got me thinking. It also meant I had to admit to my mom what I had done to you."

That statement alone got a glare from her mother. The smile couldn't stay hidden for long, though.

"Are you as promiscuous as this Tony you roomed with?"

My mom looked shocked. I found it funny, dad suddenly remembered he left something in his basement workshop, and both fathers quickly exited stage left. I didn't get a chance to defend myself: Taylor beat me to it.

"No he's not, mom. Mitch has dated three students in total, none for less than six months."

This time we all looked at Taylor, who figured out real quick that you can't hide from anyone at a kitchen table. In the end she just shrugged her shoulders.

"What? I was curious, so I checked."

Mrs Dennison watched her daughter for a moment. Taylor just shrugged and stared at the table. It took a while before her mother spoke again.

"My daughter has done you wrong with this persona non grata thing. She's told me why, and that's only because she herself has an ulterior motive. I know why she wants what she's about to ask you, and when she told me I refused to allow her to manipulate you. Taylor: the floor is yours."

Noticing mom smirk out of the corner of my eye, I got the feeling that both moms had indeed been in cahoots over the whole of summer break. Taylor coughed, took a deep breath and exhaled. I sure got the feeling she was wishing she was somewhere else right now.

At first she looked at my mom as she explained that her own grades were slipping. If they continued to slip at the rate they were, then she would not have sufficient grades for the job she had lined up when they were translated to exam marks. At first she loved the sorority house, but there was simply too much going on there and she was finding it hard to concentrate. When I mentioned that Tony was going to miss his final two years she thought that living with me would turn her grades around.

Hell, I was still stuck in "what the fuck" mode as she turned her attention to her own mother.

"I love the sorority house and my friends there, mom, but I'm a realist. I have a year to turn this around before we all head towards final exams, and Mitch can help me. His reputation back at school as the go-to guy carries weight amongst those I've talked to on this. Hell, even Marta believes he has the smarts to pull me back from the abyss I'm staring at."

Taylor seemed to speak from the heart. I'm just grateful that I kept my mouth shut. Everyone was watching Taylor, but it was her own mother who spoke next.

"I gave birth to you twenty years ago, and those moments I held you in my arms were the best. Now you're on the brink of shitting all over those memories."

Everyone at that table looked at her as though she was losing her mind.

"Tell him the truth, girl, or so help me I'm leaving you here with him until you do."

Both looked at each other like some unspoken conversation was going on between them. Taylor started to fidget until she realized she was doing it, and immediately stopped. Her mom refused to back down, giving Taylor even less in the way of wiggle room. Finally she looked directly at her mom, a small smile giving way to a nod of her head before she looked at me.

"In a room full of people, why do I feel so alone?"

A great sadness came to her at that moment.

"I wasn't at a party, Mitch. I was at the sorority house contemplating my life and, to be honest, up until that moment it sucked real bad. I was thinking such bad thoughts, Mitch, and then you sent me what you thought was the answer to my question. I can tell you word for word what you said: I downloaded it and now it has a place in my heart."

My brain was racing along, still playing catch up on all this. Taylor leant on her arms and looked directly at me.

"Don't let the bravado fool you. A couple of years back I was in a bad place with depression."

Taylor looked to her mother, who leaned on the table and clasped her hand for both comfort and support.

"Depression never really goes away, Mitch, but it doesn't make me a freak either. Sometimes it just sneaks up on you; it did the evening I asked that question."

An inner peace seemed to settle on Taylor, I think the fact no one at the table went all weird on her when she made her confession probably helped. Taylor used that to gain some sort of strength and, once she pulled air into her lungs and slowly let it out, a calm settled on her and she continued.

"The dads took me to see your apartment off campus when Tony came to collect his stuff. My dad thinks I'm crazy for even thinking of doing this, and I know mom just wants to pull me from college and lock me in a room with a therapist. As for me, I'm using every trick in the book to get what I want, but that's not going too well either."

In a room full of people, why do I feel so alone?

Everyone on the site that evening assumed, just as I had. But it wasn't a question; it was a cry for help. I looked at my mom, who had tears in her eyes. What Taylor had said had affected everyone in the room, that was for sure. All I wanted to do just then was to bring the atmosphere down a notch.

"You know if you move into the apartment you're going to get yourself a reputation?"

To me it was a question, but to Taylor it seemed the tension in the air had just popped.

"What's the matter, white boy? Afraid to be known as the black girl's bitch?"

"TAYLOR!!"

She could deny it all she wanted. She blushed, apologized to her mom and mine and, with a smile still on her lips, looked directly at me again.

"Actually I was talking about the reputation of being the geek's plaything."

Both moms groaned and collectively rolled their eyes. Hey, I was still playing catch up and had never been in this situation before, so bite me.

*******

They stayed for dinner. The dads even came up from my father's basement workshop where they had been hiding. Taylor still needed help: that was plain for everyone to see. We discussed the college counselor; that got stomped on, and Taylor's folks set about looking for a therapist off-campus. Before she left she gave me a list of subjects she was struggling with and the reasons why, and I told her I would look into it.

I moved back to school two weeks later armed with a folder of stuff for Taylor. She had moved into the apartment the day before, and her dad had had a brand new and very shiny lock fitted to her bedroom door. She pointed to it and I laughed.

The getting to know you part didn't take all that long to be honest; it just felt like a continuation of the telephone conversations we had over summer break. Her room had a shower which had suited Tony, but Taylor liked to have a soak so she pinched the tub in my room a couple of times a week. It also brought a whole new meaning to hanging a towel on my bedroom door handle when she did.

Her sorority took it well. I'm sure she confided in a couple of them as to the real reason, although I doubted very much that she would ever admit it to me. Taylor's therapy sessions started a week after school began, and she did on occasions share parts of them with me. I listened, and only added advice when asked, since I was a geek, not a therapist. She also called me a taskmaster when I set her made-up mini exams on her weakest subjects.

The rumor mill was divided. I got knowing winks and nudges; Taylor got many a shaking head, and even more "what are you doing with him, girl?" questions fired at her from all quarters. I think we became the topic of conversation for a whole three days before something else moved us off the gossip roster.

Marta came to the apartment a few times; she said it was to catch us out. The closest she got was seeing Taylor in what I usually called her three S's: shirt, shorts and socks. Most of the time she was still with us through dinner, and I'm glad to say they never had a repeat of the head to head that they were getting to at the library.

It was getting towards the middle of the semester when Taylor started to get distracted, her attention levels starting to take a hit. My first thought was that between her course work and me I was probably working her too hard, so I suggested she find something to do one night a week. I had a girl's night out, or even a weekly trip to the cinema, in my head, but not Taylor. We were still trying to figure out what when she decided to come with me to the inter-college track meet.

It was actually fun, and watching her stand and cheer on our boys and girls sure made a couple of folks get up and find quieter seats. On the way back to the apartment she admitted that she was now a track fan, and it made her the topic of the gossip roster once again. Oh, we still did the odd Monday night football game together on the couch, with popcorn and soda in abundance, but when a track meet came up she was dressed and ready before I was.

*******

Now, when this girl gets an idea in her head she just runs with it, and Taylor decided she wanted to do the end of year marathon. I did point out that a marathon meant a heck of a lot more training than she was going to have time for before the event was due. Maybe I got lucky: I'm not all that sure, but I managed to persuade her to change that to a half-marathon that would be held the day before the full marathon.

She talked to the sports coaches who pointed her in the right direction, and her studies got back on track. She found time in the evenings to train every chance she got. As for me, I bought a bike and kept her company.

The sight of that got us pushed back up to the top of the gossip roster for a few days again. A couple of the girls from the sorority thought it a great idea and joined in. Of course, me being the geek, I researched all the more detailed training and diets they would need, and went to see the track coach just to make sure. He took the fitness regime home with him, and came back to me saying that he could find no fault with it.

*******

Taylor was sitting watching some soap on TV, her legs the full length of the couch. I was at my work station finishing some coursework.

"The girls want to know if we're having sex yet."

I stopped mid-sentence, my attention now on Taylor. She had that innocent look about her which meant she was hiding something.

"And you put them straight, of course."

She held my gaze for a moment before her eyes lowered to my chest and I had one of those sinking feelings in the pit of my stomach.

"Well..."

"Taylor, how can 'no, we are not having sex' be whittled down to... 'Well...?'"

"Dammit, Mitch, they caught me unprepared! And besides, why ain't we?"

I rolled my eyes, but she ignored me.

"It's 'why aren't we?'"

Taylor just shrugged her shoulders, grabbed the remote and turned off the TV before adjusting her position by placing her legs under her ass and leaning her arm on the back of the couch to look directly at me.

"Whatever. Either way you're skipping around the original question."

"I'm a guy and I don't multi-task. Getting your grades up and getting you that job are my priority."

For a moment her face took on an almost intense look before she moved off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

"Oh, I just thought it was because you didn't want me to find out you had a four inch dick."

My laughter followed her. I knew I was going to be useless for the rest of the evening so, being grateful that it was Friday and I had the weekend to catch up, my course work could be left until tomorrow. I was sitting on one end of the couch when Taylor brought two cups of chocolate back with her.

"You gave up your chance to eat it, so you may as well drink it instead."

Her smile was just as infectious, and I thought she had finished with that topic. Silly me.

*******

I had just come back with a book in my hand, and Marta was already making herself comfortable at my desk in the library. The fact that all her books were still in her bag didn't escape me either.

"OK, what have I done this time?"

Marta looked at me for a moment before her gaze swept the whole of the library. When her eyes locked onto mine again she stood.

"Pack up. We need to talk, and I'm not doing it here."

The sun was still relatively high, the warmth it shared with us meaning we didn't need jackets. Since Marta was leading this conversation all I did was make sure I kept to her pace. It still took a few minutes before she stopped and sat on one of the benches.

"How is it going with you two?"

"Better than I expected. I figured out the problems she was having with some of her classes and gave her some tips. But that's not the question you want to ask, is it?"

Her arm went into mine and she gently squeezed. A soft giggle escaped her lips and I smiled.

"I can't for the life of me think why, but she likes you. She caught all kinds of hell from her folks when she floated the idea of living with you."

"Too much going on at the sorority house."

Marta looked at me like I had two heads, eventually shaking her head and sighing.

"Fuck, are you really that stupid? Please don't ever have children: I don't think the world can handle having your genes spread themselves."

I giggled; she didn't. I stopped giggling because I figured out real quick she wasn't joking.

"This is the only place she's being allowed to be herself, Mitch. I would suggest you hang on for the ride, because she would be good for you."

This time she just shook her head and mirrored something my mother had said some months back, about having a high IQ yet still being as stupid as shit. The sun had ducked behind the halls of residence by the time we had finished talking, or rather Marta talking and me realizing that a high IQ counts for nothing when it comes to relationships.

Marta told me what Taylor had to surrender once she left the sorority; how she had been ostracized by some of the students and even a few of her own friends. Yes, Taylor was gambling with so much in her life and this dumb ass of a guy simply hadn't realized, and wasn't helping her as much as he could.

*******

Saturday was finally here; the day of the half-marathon. I guessed that Taylor had hardly slept at all on the Friday night. She was up early to shower and get ready. I knocked on her door and, even though I didn't think I needed to, I reminded her of the time. The handle moved a second or so later, and she came out in her sports bra and boy shorts. The bravado came out before she did, her face giving her the look of a stone fox when she walked into the day room in nothing else. The body on that woman sure made sure you pay attention.

I had to remind myself that I was staring, and probably had my mouth hanging open. Her giggle did seem to confirm that. Yes, I had got used to Taylor wandering around the apartment in a t-shirt and shorts. Even though that was minimal, it at least hid much from view, other than the jiggle of her tits, of course, when she was laughing at some show or something that I had said. But this was her almost naked, and DAMN did she look hot! It was sure difficult on my part to maintain any form of eye contact when all that flesh on two great legs came out of her room.

Taylor was physically fit even before she began her training for the half-marathon. The extra muscle she now carried banished any remaining excess body fat on her, and toned her to the point that even more of the male (and even some of the female) students stopped to watch as she walked past them. Her hand came out holding two large Band-Aids. She looked at me with a smirk and then lowered her eyes to her open hand, my creased brow clearly showing my confusion.

"I know the research you have put into my fitness regime, Mitch, but I talked to one of the female coaches. She recommended that I do this for training and the race, or suffer the consequences later."

I may have a high IQ, but right then I was still stuck in dumb-ass mode. The large Band-Aids were still in Taylor's now shaking hand.

"I'm running a half-marathon and, although my sports bra is tight, there is still room for movement, and that could mean a problem for me. Add sweat and friction into the mix and my tits become no-go zones for days after, so these go over my nipples."

Now I knew what the smirk meant.

"Normally Monica does mine and I do hers when we get changed at the gym, but she's at the sorority house, and the start-finish line is much closer to here than the gym, soooo..."

Again I did that double -take thing between her hand and what at the moment remained barely hidden inside her sports bra. The humor in her voice was no longer concealed; this damn woman was having a great time watching my face burn and my jaw drop like a brick to the floor.

"Wanna do it for me? Just to make sure they're in the right place, of course."

Somewhere way off in the distance of my mind I could hear a door slam shut. By the look on her face I knew she had planned this all along. I couldn't get Monica or any of the girls from the sorority here in time to do this and, as extensive as my research was, I had failed to take this into account. I knew she spoke the truth, and my thoughts were divided. In a sense I had failed her by not researching hard enough to know this, and if she hadn't found out beforehand I could have damaged her by my own failure.

The fact that Miss Taylor Dennison had also failed to mention it to me the entire time she had been in training, and was dropping it on me now, didn't go unnoticed either. But it was penance time: she was right and I was wrong. In my mind it was a case of learn from it and move on. An easy thing to say but, as the minutes ticked right on by in that room, I was beginning to understand the full implications of my failed research and how much Taylor planned to rub my nose in it.

As I took the Band-Aids from her and placed them on the coffee table I said, "OK. Pull off your bra."

She was still standing and looking at me like she wasn't sure what she had heard.

"Changed your mind?"

Her smile lit up the room and, as her head shook, she did look more intensely at me for a moment as though she was assessing if she had heard me correctly, realizing that the challenge now lay at her feet and not mine. That high IQ didn't mean much when it took my friend Marta to slap me on the side of the head and tell me the real reason Taylor now lived with me at the apartment.

The evening I wrote an answer to the question of "In a room full of people, why do I feel so alone?" she saw hope amongst the confusion of her mind. People like Taylor don't walk up to others and ask them out. They haven't needed to do that, EVER. Their looks and men's dreams always made them do it. It was new ground for Taylor and, added to the return of her depression, she faced an uphill battle to get what she wanted, which was to see if this relationship could turn into something other than friendship.

She knew what pulling off her bra signified. Just a step, but a tentative step in the direction that she had hoped for, and which she had shared with Marta to make my best friend the bridge between us. Her hands went to her bra and pulled it up over her head. This time it was my turn to stare.

"You like?"