Life without Taylor was life.
Just a little sadder.
When you really think about how little we can accurately predict what's going to happen in our lives, it's scary. Four months ago, I never would have imagined that I'd meet, let alone strike a friendship with, a professional hockey player. And neither myself nor that player could predict that he'd be traded in the first week of January. And, continuing with the trend, if you had told me that I'd feel this strongly about someone I hadn't even known for half a year, I wouldn't have believed you.
And if you had said that that person would be a guy, I would've choked.
In many ways since Taylor packed up and left for Toronto, my life hasn't changed. I'm in the same city, living with the same people, and going to the same school. The only thing that's changed is Taylor's presence.
Turns out, that one thing is a huge thing.
The funny thing is, Taylor and I seem to be as connected as when he was in Winnipeg. We text as often as we can and FaceTime each other at least twice a week. It's not that often, because we have the complicated task of coordinating our schedulesâhis practices and games, my classes and exams, his naps, and my naps. But the effort is there, for sure.
And yet, it's not nearly enough. I don't care what any social media site or cell phone provider says, there really is no substitute for face-to-face interaction. In my opinion, people really underestimate the power of touch. Even if it's minimal or casual or platonic, the welcomed touch from someone you love is healing. (I'm not making that up, either. Read any psychology textbook and it'll confirm it.)
But because I don't have the luxury of being within touching distance of Taylor, I'm trying to do the next best thing. Connect myself with as much virtual Taylor as possible.
Hence, why I've begun to stalk him on social media. I'm talking following along with all the sports blogs and outlets and reading all the Taylor articles and watching all the interview clips.
Can I even call that stalking? I mean, these sites do put up this content for the public to view. True, but I don't think they meant for people to consume that content by refreshing the page ten times in one minute, waiting for the next thing to be posted.
What can I say? I'm strategic. And desperate. I know that the post-game media scrums of the players are posted on the Toronto Saints' official YouTube channel about half-hour after the game ends. So, whenever that time arrives, I go on the page and refresh, refresh, refresh.
I can honestly say that I've seen every single video clip that featured Taylor Hudson. In my defense, there's not an insane amount and they tend to be short. Whenever I take a study break, I check my trusty sources. Then, I wait until I'm alone in my room at night and watch them before bad.
Is that pathetic? Am I doing something wrong by doing this? I want to tell myself that it's not, that I'm not, but then if that was the case, why haven't I told Taylor I do this? Why do I check to ensure that my headphones are working properly before I press play, because I'd rather my family catch me watching the naughty scenes from Fifty Shades of Grey than Taylor content?
No. It was fine. I had to believe that. Taylor was my friend that I was in love with and all I wanted to do was keep up with his new life in Toronto.
And boy, what a life it looked like.
When you've spent your life in Winnipeg, you can't help but feel like Toronto is the ultimate city. The dream city. From a global perspective, Toronto was the heart of Canada. Everything seemed bigger and better there.
And that applied to their hockey team. The good people of Toronto seemed to go absolutely wild for their Saints. See, the Storm also has fans, for sure (Exhibit A: my father). But there's a difference between the fans. Winnipeg fans seem to go to the games and watch them on TV for lack of other entertainment options. I'm not kidding. If you want a night of entertainment, catch a Storm game. Of course, the fans cheer for the team, but they don't live for the team (Exception: my father). Not like the Saints fans do. Those fans are fans of the team because of pure passion. Because they bleed hockey and love their city and anyone who represents their city.
Taylor included.
Why wouldn't they? Love him, I mean. In the three weeks that he's played for the Saints, he's been the team's best player, putting up crazy points and scoring huge goals.
Sometimes I'd scroll through fan Twitter accounts or read the comments on Taylor's interviews and see that people are branding him their saviour, claiming that they'd donate their left kidney to him if he needed it.
Good to know that was covered in case it did happen.
Here's something else I should mention. I've found myself thinking a lot about Taylor. Like a lot, a lot. Like right now, when I should be typing up my lecture notes from this morning's History of Psychology class.
Not my fault the material couldn't keep my Taylor-centric thoughts at bay.
My phone, which was sitting next to me on my bed playing white noise, dinged with an incoming text message.
Speak of the devil.
Taylor: Don't think I've forgotten about you coming to visit me next week.
Taylor: Also, hey. :)
Camille: I know you haven't forgotten. You only mention it every time we talk. And hey yourself.
Taylor: If someone would just let me buy their plane ticket, then this could've been over with a long time ago.
This guy never failed to mention this, did he? I knew his yearly salary was 700 thousand, Canadian (and that was the league minimum!) but I just didn't feel right letting him pay for my flight. Because cross-Canada flights were ridiculously expensive, though, I wanted to wait to see if the prices would go down closer to the date. Joke was on me, because I was still looking somewhere around five hundred bucks for the round trip.
Camille: Don't worry about it. I can cover it. It'll be like a pre-graduation present for myself. Does next Friday still work?
Although I'm off the entire week, the team won't get back from a road trip until Thursday. It actually worked out for me, because I could spend the weekdays doing my schoolwork and then fly our Friday morning and return Sunday.
Taylor: Yeah!
Taylor: Everything going okay?
Camille: Yeah, just studying. How about you?
Taylor: Okay, just playing hockey.
Camille: Right. I forgot about that.
Taylor: I was looking forward to seeing you.
Camille: Be quiet.
Taylor: I am quiet. Texting doesn't make any noise.
Camille: BYE.
Taylor: Toodles! See you next week!
Sometimes this dork drove me nuts. I was about to call him an idiot, but I can't even be mean to him in my head because I like him too much.
The next week and a half went by both too fast and too slow. The hours were long but the days were short. One of two thoughts went through my mind. I either wondered how the hell two minutes had only gone by or how on earth it was already Wednesday.
And then it was Thursday afternoon. I had put off physically packing my stuff until then, but I had planned most of my outfits in my head. I would only be there for three days, which meant I needed six underwear, five pairs of socks, and four tops. Because the one time I decide I need to make an outfit change during the middle of the day, I'd be on the other side of the country.
But seriously, would anyone notice if I wore the same pair of jeans all three days?
Better pack an extra three pairs, just in case.
And then it was Thursday night. Did I even sleep? Or did I just toss and turn with my eyes closed and call that rest? My friend anxiety was paying me a visit so I decided to try a trick someone in my psychology lab shared with me. Instead of telling myself that I was anxious, I told myself that I was excited. The idea was that the negative feelings would then turn into positive ones.
And I was excited! I was going to Toronto, baby! Just in case that wasn't cause enough for excitement, I was going to see Taylor.
Whoops. Anxiety battled with the excitement there.
As I got ready on Friday morning, curling my hair and putting on a bit more makeup than I usually didânothing too crazy, just some neutral eyeshadowsâI admitted my worries about seeing Taylor again after the almost-one-month apart.
What if he was different?
What if we didn't know what to say?
What if he was actually a horrible person and I had just spent all this time building him up in my mind?
And then, I talked myself out of all this bullshit.
Maybe he would be a little different. He'd have a different perspective from living in a new city.
We didn't have any problems over texting or FaceTiming, so why would that change when face-to-face?
And no. Just flat out no. If he was a horrible person, how could I have fallen in love with him?
The flight from Winnipeg to Toronto was only about two and a half hours and I pulled into the downtown Toronto airport just before noon.
Dear god, please don't let there be a repeat of last time Taylor picked me up at the airport. I don't think I could handle that again. I wanted to be better this time. I wanted to be a girl who could confidently walk around a new, world class city with a boy who made her butterflies go psycho in her stomach.
I wanted to be someone Taylor wanted.
Because, after all, I didn't know how he felt about me. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. I knew he cared about me. He wouldn't treat me like he did if he didn't. I knew he liked me enough to consider me his friend.
Selfish as I was, that didn't satisfy me. I wanted him to want all of me.
I wanted him to love me.
I checked my phone as I followed the signs to the passenger pick-up area. A message from Taylor immediately came through. He was already there, which was good news. That lessened the chances of me having an attack waiting for him.
The airport was small; it wasn't the huge international airport located elsewhere in the city. I wasn't the only one there by any means, but there were few enough people that as soon as I walked through the automatic doors and into the cold Toronto sun, I immediately saw Taylor.
And the angels sang.
He stood there, wearing an outfit I felt that I had seen on him a million timesâwhite hoodie, fitted black joggers, and black baseball capâand holding a sheet of lined paper that had my name on it.
I stood there, watching him and smiling.
Walking would be a good idea, my subconscious sneered.
Why walk when you can run? With my suitcase wheeling behind me, my feet tried to close the distance between us as fast as they could. For a moment I wondered why Taylor wasn't moving but then I saw that his knees were bent and his arms were open and it all became clear.
As soon as his hands held on to my waist, I made some odd, high-pitched sound and wrapped my arms around his large torso, suitcase be damned.
"I'm so happy you're here, you have no idea," Taylor murmured into my hair.
"I know, I am too."
We stood there, holding each other, for a length of time I wasn't sure about.
That took all of three seconds. Confirming that I was in fact in love with him, I mean.
"Do you have all your things?" Taylor asked, looking down at me with a toothy grin. "I don't mean to be in a rush to leave but I thought you'd be hungry. I wanted to take you to my favourite restaurant here."
"That sounds perfect," I practically sighed.
He grabbed my suitcase and I followed him to the car that was similar to the one he had back in Winnipeg, but was a different colour.
"What? No black Jeep this time?" I teased.
He looked back at me and smirked.
"No, I rented white."
Taylor unlocked the door and I slid into the passenger seat.
"What's with the sign by the way?" I asked him as he pulled on his seatbelt.
Taylor's cheeks coloured. Oh, how I had missed that.
He shrugged. "I saw it in a movie once. I thought it was a cute idea."
"You're right, it was very adorable. Do your teammates know you did that?"
"Psshh," Taylor said as he shifted gears and pulled out of the lot, "Yeah right, and give them enough material to roast me for the rest of the season?"
That reminded me of something, something I surprisingly hadn't thought about too much.
"Does anyone know I'm coming to visit you?" I asked him.
"Why would I tell anyone? I don't want any witnesses who could go to the police."
Oh my gosh.
"I hate to tell you this," I said, "but you're no funnier in Toronto than Winnipeg."
But he was a better hockey player, apparently.
"No, seriously, I did tell a few guys, the ones I'm closer to. Some also have girlfriends that you could meet and you could sit with them at tomorrow's game."
Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Do not freak out. Just because he's going to introduce you to his teammate's girlfriends doesn't mean he'll introduce you to his teammates as his girlfriend. Geez. You need to be part of Mensa to understand that sentence.
"Aw really? I have to sit in the stands? I wanted to stand on the bench."
Saturday night the Saints played a home game and Taylor said he had a ticket for me. It obviously made sense for me to go while I was in the cityâwhat else was I going to do? Sit in his apartment alone?âbut I was still really grateful for the opportunity. I could only imagine how exciting the atmosphere would be.
"Funny. And this is downtown Toronto traffic, by the way."
Yikes. I didn't drive, so it probably didn't mean much, but I would not want to drive here.
"The restaurant's not too far though, so that's good."
I nodded, looking out the window at all the shops lining the street. Coach, Tiffany, Hermes.
"Swanky little neighbourhood," I commented.
"Yeah, this is what I think is considered the fashion district. Bloor Street. The restaurant's in a little village-looking place called Yorkville and it's really high class. My apartment and the arena are actually a little more downtown, but they're still nice."
High class? Damn, he was really pulling out all the stops.
"Something tells me the restaurant won't have chicken tenders."
Taylor laughed. "No, it doesn't. But it's Italian, and I know you like Italian food. If you don't like the menu I can take you to the McDonald's. There's one around here."
"Okay, I know you're joking, but that is a seriously intriguing offer."
"Really?" He looked over at me. "They don't have chicken fingers."
"They have chicken nuggets, though."
Taylor shook his head, smiling in disbelief. "If you're a good girl this weekend maybe I'll buy you a happy meal."
"Make it a regular-sized combo and you got yourself a deal."
Just as I finished that sentence, Taylor drove into a parking spot and pulled the key out of the ignition. He looked over at me, his eyes on my eyes.
All playfulness aside, I swallowed, hoping the movement wasn't visible. The last thing I needed to be doing was giving out signals that outed how I felt.
"What?" I dared to ask, mouth feeling dry.
"You haven't changed a bit," he admitted.
Oh.
"And you look really good."
Thank you. That was more like it.
"Thanks. Can we go inside now? I'd like to eat before dinner."
"You're welcome, Camille. Happy to pick you up at the airport."
Yeah, yeah, wise guy. I wasn't an idiot. I knew I wasn't the most secretive with my feelings. Taylor had to have an inkling of how I felt about him. He didn't need me to tell him that I thought he always looked enough to eat.
I was so captivated looking at the little shops in this picturesque street that I would've walked past the restaurant if Taylor hadn't gently pulled me backwards.
"Thanks," I muttered.
"Anytime."
The hostess gave Taylor quite the appraisal. Even a blind man could've seen it.
"I've been here a few times, she knows me," Taylor whispered in my ear as we walked to our table.
Was I so obvious that he felt a need to explain the situation?
"Oh, okay. That's fine."
Our table was in the back of the restaurant, in a secluded corner. It was a little dark in there, but I didn't mind.
"I already know what I'm going to get, so you can just take your time and look through the menu," Taylor informed me.
As I flipped through the heavy, fancy pages I was thankful I had a rudimentary understanding of Italian. There was a lot of sauce and cheese and meat.
My eyes skimmed through the white meat section and I laughed.
"What?"
"There's a chicken dish that says it's good for kids."
"Let me guess. You're going to get that one."
"Yup."
Now he laughed.
"Hey, don't laugh at me!"
"I'm not, I swear. It's just that the first time I saw that I thought of you."
Well then. Proof that he thought of me at least a little bit when we were separated.
A waiter came and took our order. Taylor ordered some mushroom veal dish. Even the friendly waiter gave him some extra attention.
"Are you familiar with all the staff?" I asked, folding my hands on top of the table.
"Honestly," Taylor started, his face somewhere between a grimace and a smile, "there's people that recognize me everywhere I go, but this place is too expensive for them to ask for a picture or something."
"Wow," was all I said.
I don't think that happened once in Winnipeg.
"Usually I don't mind. It's really flattering. But sometimes, I don't want to be interrupted." He took a sip of water. "Anyways, what's new with you? Have you heard from any grad schools?"
I loved that he remembered things like this.
"Actually," I said, drawing out the word. "I have. I got in to the two schools I applied to in Manitoba."
Taylor's eyes lit up. "That's amazing! Congrats!" A pause. "Why don't you sound more excited?"
I shrugged, trying to hide the shock at how well he could read me.
"I don't know. I guess they're not my first choice."
"What is, then?"
"I think either Vancouver or Toronto, whichever one I get into. Yes, I am thinking about moving away more and more."
He looked at me, with actual pride on his face. "I'm proud of you. I just want you to do what's best for you."
"Thanks," I murmured.
It was still such a huge decision to make and I didn't have all the information yet.
Two waiters came with large, steaming plates and placed them in front of us.
"Thank you," we said in unison.
"We can visit the university campus tomorrow, if you want. I'm pretty sure it's downtown," Taylor said as he stabbed a fork into a mushroom.
"You'd want to do that?" I paused, fork in mid-air.
"Yeah, why not?," he shrugged. "If it'll help you make your decision, I'm all for it."
I nodded, looking down at my chicken. What a thoughtful thing to offer. I cut my fork through the tender meat. It melted in my mouth, just like my heart in my chest.
I was happily eating my meal and I thought Taylor was doing the same. But then I looked up and did a double take at the troubled expression on his face.
"Hey," I said softly, reaching out to put my palm on his. "What's the matter?"
He took his hand away before I could touch it and I closed my mouth immediately to mask how offended I was.
What the hell?
"Nothing," he said.
Come on. This was totally not nothing. One minute he was happy and joking and the next he's... this? Did he not want to go to the university, after all?
"Taylor, we canâ"
"Found you!" a loud male voice boomed.
Goodness! My fork flung out of my hand and thankfully Taylor's sharp reflexes allowed him to grab it.
"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Taylor said, annoyed.
I looked over to the group that Taylor was addressing and felt myself immediately grow shy. Surrounding our table were now three large, broad menâhockey playersâand two beautiful blonde women.
Gosh. And to think I was feeling okay about my appearance that day.
"We wanted to come crash your lunch, duh! And we knew just where to find you," the brunette male said.
"Lauren and I tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted," the woman next to him said.
She was extremely pretty.
"What are you talking about?" he said back. "You were the one who kept going on about how much you wanted to meet her!"
Taylor just shook his head and looked at me, apologizing with his eyes.
"No worries," I mouthed.
"I'm going to make them pay the bill," he said back.
The other girlâLauren, I assumedâtold Taylor to introduce us, so he did. The girls were Sydney and Lauren and the guys were Jonathan, Matt, and Jeff. I think Sydney and Jonathan were together, as were Lauren and Matt. That kind of made it easy to tell who everyone was, but they all shared a resemblance, like the Cullen clan did.
"Guys, this is my friend, Camille," Taylor said.
Stupid heart. It had the nerve to be disappointed that that was how he introduced me. Because why would he say it to them when he never said it to me?
It seemed like that was the last thing Taylor said for the remainder of lunch.
"Ah, the girl from Winnipeg," Mike said. No, not Mike, Matt.
And then the rest of the gang jumped in, asking me questions and telling me about themselves.
I certainly wasn't as cool or rich or beautiful as them, but it was nice to pretend for a little bit.
There was a little bit of guilt swimming in my stomach because I knew I wasn't giving them my full attention. How could I when Taylor was sitting across from me, glaring at me with his arms crossed over his chest?
The intensity in his stare was making me want to cry. He had never even gotten so much as annoyed with me in all the time I've known him and now he looked furious?
I stared back at him with a frown. His face softened and he winked, which made me feel a teensy bit better.
Still, something was definitely up.
And I intended to find out exactly what it was.