The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,48

I did last time. It’s hard, being far from home without anyone.

That sentiment at least I could understand. She was lonely. Or homesick. I was feeling a little homesick, too. And what would it hurt to give Taylor another chance?

All right. I’m free tomorrow. Where should we meet?

Taylor insisted on meeting at this edible cookie dough shop in SoHo that all of her friends raved about. I bought us both a scoop. Mine standard chocolate chip and hers loaded down with sugar cookies, vanilla icing, graham crackers, and sprinkles. We left the shop behind with our treats and headed east toward the nearby shops.

“This is amazing,” Taylor said. “Why don’t we have this in LA?”

“We probably do.”

“Yeah, but not in the Valley.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Taylor seemed subdued today compared to the first day of classes. She’d been trying too hard. Unsurprisingly, since she was a freshman. And already, she’d come into her own. She wore a plain white T-shirt under overalls and black statement Dr. Martens. Her black-to-blue-tipped hair was up in a messy bun on the top of her head. She sported little makeup and seemed to have this energy about her. As if she couldn’t stand still. She had to keep moving, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“You seem to be doing well. How are classes?” I asked.

She grinned up at me. “Pretty amazing. My poetry seminar is life-changing.”

“Good. It sounds like you’re in the right place then.”

“I feel like it,” she admitted.

“But you also feel homesick?”

She glanced up at me in surprise.

I just laughed. “Yeah. I get homesick, too. I love New York, but it’s not California.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

“No one ever understands how much I love California. It’s in my blood.”

Taylor nodded aggressively. “It really is.”

“When do you get to go back?”

“Ugh! Not until Thanksgiving. Dad wouldn’t buy me a ticket when I called him. He just told me to go hang out with you.” She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I figured he’d talked you into it.”

“I’m glad that we’re doing it though.”

“Me too,” I said a bit suspiciously.

I felt like she wanted something. I’d sidled up to people in college to get what I wanted by being extra appreciative. But maybe it was my own bias. Taylor and I had nothing in common, except our father and his blue eyes.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, we tossed our finished cookie dough and headed into a boutique Taylor had suggested. It was all artsy madness inside. Not my style at all. But Taylor lit up.

“Bea talks about this place all the time,” she gushed.

“And Bea is the friend who suggested the cookie dough?”

She nodded emphatically. “She’s the best. Her parents used to bring her to New York a couple times a year. They live in Boston. She knows all the good places to shop.”

Taylor reverently touched a long purple printed dress, carefully checking the price tag before hastily dropping it and moving on. I looked at the price. As expected, it was more than I’d ever paid for clothes before working at Poise. It had sucked, being at UCLA and Columbia without any money. Earning my place with scholarships and student loans and the force of my personality. I knew the feeling well.

“Why don’t you try this on?”

Taylor shook her head. “Can’t get my hopes up.”

I took it off the rack and handed it to her. “Try it on.”

She bit her lip. Her hands shook a little as she took it from me. “Okay.”

Her hand grazed a leather jacket as she headed to the dressing room. I picked it up, checked the price tag with a shrug, and brought it with me.

Taylor came out a minute later, looking like a vision in the dress. It was something I’d never wear, but it looked great on her.

I passed her the jacket. Her eyes rounded.

“I’ll literally die if I fall in love with that jacket,” she said. Her fingers twitched as she reached for it, and then she pulled her hand back.

“Just try it on, Tay.”

Taylor slung the jacket around her shoulders and stared at herself in the mirror. “Wow. It’s perfect.”

And it was. Edgy and fantastic with moto sleeves, spiked metal details, and perfect slashes across the material. It completed her outfit.

She shucked it off and passed it back to me without a word and changed, leaving the dress in the room.

“Next shop?” she asked wistfully.

I shook my head. Taylor and I were fresh. We were new. Trust was just forming. Our relationship like a