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jennaferz

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She turned away, her heart thudding wildly, still unable to say the words even though he knew.

“Don’t deny it to me,” he whispered. “Not again. Not unless you’re deliberately trying to break my heart.”

Marissa cleared her throat and stood. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said, but neither Deni nor Taylor heard her. They stared at each other; each had eyes, ears, feelings, only for the other person.

“I heard what you said,” Taylor murmured, and this time it was he that looked away. “I heard everything, Deni. Why did you lie to me?”

She gazed at him, probing him, hearing everything he had ever said to her about “us” playing over and over in her head. Don’t you want us to work? If we’re going to take this any further…

It was all up to her now.

“You know why I lied,” she said to him, her chest nearly exploding inside of her as she prepared to take this leap. “Because I was afraid. Because I didn’t know if I could trust you. But Taylor, I’m not afraid anymore. And I know--I know with all my heart--that I can trust you.” She stepped toward him, feeling her heartbeat everywhere in her body, and finally did what she had been longing to do ever since the first word they had spoken to each other.

She kissed him.

She knew she had nothing to judge it from, but she still felt sure that it had to be the sweetest kiss any girl could ever have gotten. At first it was tender, his hand cupping her cheek and their eyes closed softly--then, as it intensified, her arms tightened around his waist and his hands got lost in her hair, and his lips moved roughly across hers, and she could feel the love and the want and the need and the passion radiating from their entwined bodies--

And that was when her phone rang, and she immediately recognized the ringtone as her mother’s, who only ever called in an emergency.

Taylor looked hurt as she pulled away from him, but she hardly noticed. “Mom?” she gasped into her phone, out of breath from the kiss, but she didn’t care. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” the person on the other end of the line said. “This isn’t your mother.”

“What?”

“I don’t think that I should be the one to tell you this,” the person said, “because I don’t know you. But since this was your mother’s telephone, you need to know.”

“Was?” she repeated. “What do you mean, was?”

The person sighed, and she felt dread clench in her stomach. “I was driving,” he said slowly, “when I saw a wrecked car on the side of the road.”

Oh, my God.

“When I pulled over to check on the person, I could see immediately…” The man hesitated. “That they were dead.”

She struggled not to faint.

“This was the first number I found in the vehicle,” the man continued, “and I knew that someone needed to know.”

“What are you telling me?” she whispered, although she already knew.

“I’m so sorry,” the man whispered, “but it appears that your mother is dead.”