Make Me Yours by Alla Kar Page A

looking for me? I knew it was possible. He is really pissed, but I didn’t think he would ask around to where I am? Where I live? Cindy? Mittens? Vomit tries to climb up my throat, but I push it back down. This can’t happen. No.
       I intake a lung full of cool air just at Taylor wraps his hand around my elbow. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?” He is worried, gray eyes wide. He is sweating, but I don’t see any blood or bruising.
       I clear my throat. “This girl…she said Rod was asking where I live. Where I am?” My lip trembles. I’ve always been able to take care of myself and now I want to wrap myself in my covers and hide.
       Taylor sighs and runs his finger along my jaw. “Hustler, you’re coming home with me. You’ll be fine. Did she say she knew where you lived?”
       I shake my head.
       He smiles, and pulls my chin toward him. “If it will make you feel better, Cindy and Brett can stay in the spare room and then you can sleep with me. Mitten can come, too.”
       “I’m not sure--,”
       Taylor grabs my waist. “It’s settled. Let’s go get Brett, Cindy and Mittens.”
     
       Cindy has no problem, packing a bag, grabbing Mittens and holding up in Taylor’s apartment. We order pizza and watch a movie. Everyone is mostly quiet, but I can’t help but think all of these people are in danger because of me. I put them in danger, because I’m selfish. Because I want Taylor too much.
       “I see those wheels turning in your mind over there, Lay. Stop overthinking things.”
       “It’s hard not to,” I whisper back.
       “Do you want to go to bed?” he asks. I know he doesn’t mean go to bed as sleep, more as of just going to bed.
       I shake my head. “I’m going to take a shower.” I get up and walk toward the bathroom. I let my back rest against the wooden door and close my eyes. “Way to go, Layla. You fuck everything up.”
       I let the warm water fall against my back and press my head against the bathroom wall. I don’t know how long I stay like this, but after I wash off, towel dry my hair, I tip-toe into Taylor’s bedroom and shut the door behind me.
       “You’d make a terrible spy,” Taylor says from his bed.
       “Jesus, Taylor,” I say, swatting at him. “And you’d make the best damn stalker a girl could have. You like creeping up on girls?” I pull my fingers through my blonde hair.
       He smiles. “This is my room, Layla. I’d say you’re the creeper, spying on me.”
       I flip him the bird and walk to his closet to get one of my shirts. I drop my towel, pull on a pair of underwear and reach to grab an overly-large shirt. Taylor’s hand grabs my waist and I notice exactly how close he is to me.
       “We need to talk,” he says, breath close to my ear.
       I swallow the lump growing in my throat. “About what?” I ask, trying to pull on the shirt. Taylor grabs my waist and pushes me against the wall.
       He touches his lips to mine and snakes his tongue ring out on my lip. “Shit, Taylor,” I whisper, trying to focus.
       “We need to talk about what happened today,” he says. “We had sex,” he says.
       I turn my cheek, but he runs his tongue against my neck. “Oh, really? I didn’t know,” I gulp out, fingers running through his hair.
       He nuzzles his mouth into my neck. “Funny stuff, Layla. But, this is serious.” He grips my chin and makes me look at him. “You can’t blame yourself for your parents, you can’t not get close to people, you need them. And you don’t have to hustle anymore.”
       I grip his shirt. “It’s easy for you to say,” I mumble against his lips. “You don’t have people chasing after you…yet. If I stick around…I’m scared they’ll hurt everyone.”
       Taylor takes my lips against his and tilts his head to the side. “I can take care of myself, and you. Just give me a chance, Layla.”
       Emotions swirl in my stomach. I smile.