Page 15
Story: Arrogant and Merciless
“I’m not a hypocrite. You have a gorgeous body, but I’m not some hormone-crazed teenager. It’s not just because I want you naked in my bed that I’m going after you.”
She gasps, though she tries to hide it. “So why else, then?”
“I still haven’t figured it out, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I doubt it. You don’t look like the type to share information when it doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re very mature for your age. And wary, too.”
“I’m my father’s daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was a police officer. He raised me to defend myself, physically and mentally.”
I know he passed away, because Maryann mentioned it. I don’t bring it up, though. As someone who doesn’t like to talk about loss, I also don’t push others to open up. “What about the violin?”
“I play . . .Iusedto play since I was six.”
“Usedto?”
“I had to sell my violin when my father got sick,” she answers, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“You could’ve invoked the Fifth.”
She turns in her seat to look at me. “Exercise my right to remain silent? Isn’t that only to avoid self-incrimination?”
“Your life, your rules. You could have said nothing. Or told me to go to hell.”
“I don’t want to tell you to go to hell. Despite the fact that you’re pursuing me, I like our conversations.”
“But you don’t like being pursued?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Your silence is incriminating.”
“Maybe, but not as much as a direct answer would be.”
I hide a smile, and at that exact moment, I realize why I’m insisting on something I know is a risky bet: there’s a lot beneath Taylor’s beautiful surface. She’s smart and also fun.
“You sold the violin to pay hospital bills?”
“How do you know?”
“I guessed. I’m a doctor. My grandmother said your father was ill for years.”
“Yeah, that’s what happened, but if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then tell me about your love of music.”
“My dad was really into classical music. He ended up passing that on to me.”
“He’s the one who gave you the violin?”
“Yes. We had a neighbor, Mrs. Ennis. She was a violinist when she was younger, but for a variety of reasons, she stopped playing. She started teaching me, and after a few lessons, she told my dad I ‘had a knack for it.’” She says this like she’s embarrassed; vanity doesn’t seem to be one of her flaws.
“And then?”
She gasps, though she tries to hide it. “So why else, then?”
“I still haven’t figured it out, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I doubt it. You don’t look like the type to share information when it doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re very mature for your age. And wary, too.”
“I’m my father’s daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was a police officer. He raised me to defend myself, physically and mentally.”
I know he passed away, because Maryann mentioned it. I don’t bring it up, though. As someone who doesn’t like to talk about loss, I also don’t push others to open up. “What about the violin?”
“I play . . .Iusedto play since I was six.”
“Usedto?”
“I had to sell my violin when my father got sick,” she answers, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“You could’ve invoked the Fifth.”
She turns in her seat to look at me. “Exercise my right to remain silent? Isn’t that only to avoid self-incrimination?”
“Your life, your rules. You could have said nothing. Or told me to go to hell.”
“I don’t want to tell you to go to hell. Despite the fact that you’re pursuing me, I like our conversations.”
“But you don’t like being pursued?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Your silence is incriminating.”
“Maybe, but not as much as a direct answer would be.”
I hide a smile, and at that exact moment, I realize why I’m insisting on something I know is a risky bet: there’s a lot beneath Taylor’s beautiful surface. She’s smart and also fun.
“You sold the violin to pay hospital bills?”
“How do you know?”
“I guessed. I’m a doctor. My grandmother said your father was ill for years.”
“Yeah, that’s what happened, but if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then tell me about your love of music.”
“My dad was really into classical music. He ended up passing that on to me.”
“He’s the one who gave you the violin?”
“Yes. We had a neighbor, Mrs. Ennis. She was a violinist when she was younger, but for a variety of reasons, she stopped playing. She started teaching me, and after a few lessons, she told my dad I ‘had a knack for it.’” She says this like she’s embarrassed; vanity doesn’t seem to be one of her flaws.
“And then?”
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