Chapter 6

Taylor's POV

Surprise. 

Shock.

Awe.

All of those emotions have been running through my system throughout the day, I could barely concentrate at my meeting with my sponsors following the prelims.  I honestly can't believe that Justin would put it on the line, just to come watch my race.  It's not the World Cup or even the Olympics, but he put his neck on the line...for me.  I'm no one special, nobody that warrants that kind of effort, especially from an international superstar like Justin.

Despite our awkward meeting on the hill, and subsequent run-ins from there on, I still find myself feeling comfortable around him.  The main thing I've realized is that he makes me laugh.  His smile and the way he so easily teases me, it's comforting, it's easy.  There's a vibe to him that automatically allows me to relax and just be myself.  I don't have to worry about what I say or what I do around him...it's just kind of natural.

I haven't felt that with anyone in a long time...let alone a complete stranger.  But with Justin, things are just different.

Sighing to myself, I steady my hands on the wheel as I pull into his driveway, parking my Tahoe.  Taking a deep breath, I expel the thoughts from my head and prepare to just have a good time with him.  A time to just let loose, to celebrate the win today and the victory of Justin getting out to catch the race without compromising his whereabouts.

Quickly, I gather my purse, tucking it under my arm and getting out of the car.  The bite to the cold air immediately attacks my jean clad legs.  I shiver to myself and sink further into my jacket while making my way up his driveway and to the door.  Gently, I reach my hand up and give it a couple of knocks, shifting my weight from side-to-side as I wait for him to appear.  My breath blows out into the crisp night air, creating a smoke haze around me.  My hair is hanging in loose curls around my face, the beanie tucked securely on top of my head, trying to ward off the chill. 

Suddenly, the door is whipped open, my eyes darting immediately to the light that has appeared in front of me.  Justin is standing there in a pair of dark jeans, a light blue button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he's wiping his hands off with a towel.

"Hey, Taylor, come in," he says happily, turning to open the door a little further.

As I walk into his cabin, I'm immediately hit with the grand scale of things, the cherry wood, the fireplace, the expensive and over-stuffed furniture.  It's absolutely one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen before in my life, and it clearly puts my little house to shame.

"Wow, Justin," I say in awe, my eyes darting rapidly around the room.

He scuffs like it's no big deal before turning to grab my jacket, his hands easily removing the material from my shoulders.

"You don't like it?" I ask, slipping my arms out of it.

"It's alright.  But it's not really home, ya know?  It's just stuff...nothing is mine."

"Still...talk about living it up!" I say excitedly, my eyes wide.

He laughs at me before hanging my jacket in the hall closet and walking towards the living room.  Quietly, I slip off my shoes and follow behind him, the smell of something Italian wafting heavily in the room.  My stomach starts to gurgle quietly and I try to quiet its noise, as to not embarrass myself.

"Want something to drink?" he asks, opening the cabinet and grabbing a glass.  "I have some wine..."

"Wine's good," I answer, taking the glass from his hands and holding it out for him to pour the liquid into.  I take a quick sip and he motions towards one of the island stools for me to sit down in while he finishes dinner.  "You didn't have to cook anything, Justin."

He looks at me peculiarly.  "Of course I did, Taylor.  You just won the preliminaries!  It's a celebration!"

I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm; it's nice to have someone that takes an interest in something that is so near and dear to my heart.  Although my family has been the ever supporting group, it's just not the same when I'm the only one out on the hill.  My brother has never ventured on skis and my parents, well, my dad used to come out with me but he hasn't for years.

"I can't wait to see what kind of a dinner you put on if I win the World Cup...or even the Olympics."  The words are out of my mouth before I can even think, not realizing the fact that his presence here in Breckenridge is merely temporary.  After he leaves in January, he won't be around to watch the races, or even the Olympics.  He has his own life to get back to. 

"I'll think of something good," he answers, winking at me as he opens the oven door and pulls the dish out.  Gently, he sets it on top, removing the warmers from his hands and slowly starts to take the tin foil off.  The aroma of lasagna quickly fills the quarters of the kitchen, and I find myself extra hungry all of a sudden.  After a day like today, I have certainly worked up an appetite and it seems Justin has taken notice of that.

"You can cook?" I ask in astonishment.

"I can actually..." Quickly, he opens another cabinet, pulling out a couple of dishes and some silverware.  He throws in a dishing spoon, before motioning me over and grabbing the garlic bread to top it off.  "I'm no Emeril or anything..."

"It's perfect, Justin," I tell him before grabbing the spoon and dishing out some of the food.  It looks delicious, all hot and bubbly in the pan...it certainly outshines whatever concoction I would have whipped up on my own.

The two of us quietly sit down at his dining room table, placing our meals in front of us before grabbing the wine as well.  It's not until I am sitting a couple of feet away from him, in his home, eating something he cooked for me, that the butterflies start to set in.  I have never had anyone take the time to cook for me, let alone some kind of mouth-watering meal.  He's thought of everything and it kind of takes me aback.

"This is amazing, Justin.  I don't think I've ever had lasagna this good..." I tell him, taking another bite from my plate.

"You like it?" he asks and the tone to his voice, the need for validation is sweet.

I nod my head, swallowing another piece.  "It's great.  You'll have to teach me sometime.  Whenever I cook, it's usually something small and plain.  That's about all I have mastered in the kitchen."

"I'm all up for a teaching session," he answers, taking a sip of wine.

Softly, he sits back in his chair, his hand fingering the stem of his glass and the other resting comfortably on his leg.  There's a hint of a small smile on his face and his eyes are lit up; he looks genuinely happy.

"So, how did your meeting go?" Justin asks, breaking me from my perusal of him.

I sit back in my chair, taking a break from the delicious meal.  "About the same as usual.  After I said bye to you, Rob and I headed back up to the top, to gather all of my racing gear and then went back to one of the chalets designated for the racers.  I changed into normal clothes and then headed into downtown, back to Rob's office.  All of my sponsors were there with more gear, more clothes, I am practically loaded down now with logos."

He laughs heartily at me.  "I can relate.  There's always someone trying to give you things to wear...even if I am just running to the drug-store or something.  It's kind of ridiculous."

"At least you have a choice whether or not to actually wear it.  Me, on the other hand, I don't have a choice.  I have to be seen supporting their products or they will pull the sponsorship.  And trust me, that's bad."

"Does that actually happen now?"

"Oh yeah," I answer, taking another sip of wine.  "More than you could possibly know.  It's usually a career-ending curse for a skier.  No more cutting edge technology skis, wax, boots, bindings, and gear...everything just disappears."

"Has it happened to you?" he asks softly, his eyes thoughtful.

"No, thank God."  I shake my head.  "Anyways though, about my meeting...my team and I had to talk about appearances, training sessions and races coming up," I explain, taking a couple more bites of the piping hot lasagna before settling back into my chair, feeling slightly stuffed from the pasta and bread.  After a strenuous day like today, I needed this.

"You have more competitions?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"No.  I told them that I just wanted to focus on the World Cup and then train for the Olympics.  Too many races and I can start to get a little jumbled, always feeling like the next big pressure cooker is on the horizon, ya know?"

He laughs at my analogy.  "Out of everyone, no one understands being overbooked more than me..."

I nod my head, realizing the amount of stress and pressure he must feel everyday out in LA and in the entertainment industry.

Suddenly, he motions to my meal, asking if I am finished before he clears the dishes.  I stand to help him put everything away, again thanking him for the delicious home cooked meal. 

As the two of us shuffle around the kitchen, me mostly bumping into him, not really knowing where anything goes, we finally get everything packed away and the dishes in the dishwasher before walking into the living room.  My glass of wine is still firmly in my hands as we settle into the couch, me on one end with my legs tucked up and him on the other, almost in a relaxed position.  His legs are strutting out from his long and lean body, and his head falls back gingerly on the cushions behind him.  Quickly, he reaches for the remote, flicking to life the fireplace in front of us.

"So tell me about California?" I ask, trying to get a little insight into the man that has suddenly become a part of my life in the short amount of time that I have known him.

He takes a deep breath, almost trying to steady his reaction to my words.  Immediately I feel the blush creep up my neck and settle into my cheeks.  Completely overstepped the boundaries there.

"If you don't want to-" I start to say but he eyes me, silencing my apology.

"It's not that, trust me, Taylor.  It's just I don't even know where to begin."

"Start from the beginning, that's usually the best," I answer, a hint of mocking in my voice and a smile practically lights up his entire face.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, his legs crossing at the ankle.

"Do people know you're here?"

He nods his head.  "Yeah, my family does and my best friend, Trace, he knows too."

"But the media?"

"Not a clue, so far.  It's only a matter of time before someone with a camera phone snaps a picture of me on the hill and it'll all be over.  They're probably going crazy right now not being able to find me."

"What's it like?" I ask, not really understanding the level of devotion that surrounds him.  Although I am quite easily recognized, it's not nearly enough to annoy me and people are usually always very polite with their requests.  I have no clue what life must be like for someone of Justin's stature.

"It's tiring...it's hard..." he says, a hint of sadness lacing his words.  "Don't get me wrong, I realize I signed up for the deal.  I guess I didn't think it would ever get to this extreme.  I mean, I can't even walk outside without at least ten guys following me down the street with a camera in my face.  And they act like they're my friend, asking about events, family, girlfriends...everything.  Yet, if I even open my mouth to answer them; my words will be twisted the next day in the tabloids..."  His words flow through his lips in a rush, the stress of it all taking over.

I set my glass down and gently wrap my arms around my leg, almost in a protective manner.  I feel for him...I really do.

His sad eyes turn to meet mine and the look there makes my heart clench.  "I've gotten to the point that I just don't say anything anymore."

"That's horrible," I answer softly, my words barely audible in the room.

He shrugs his shoulders.  "I think that's part of the reason I enjoy spending time with you, Taylor."

"What?" I ask, confused, and shaking my head.

"You let me just remember what it's like to be Justin.  I feel comfortable around you.  For some reason, you just kind of put me at ease.  You get what my life is like because you have a taste of it all yourself.  But you're not jaded by it...you embrace it enough to fulfill your obligations but you still have the respect for yourself to know when to push them away."

I'm slightly stunned by his words. 

"I've let so many people in that have used me, taken everything they possibly could from me and just spit me out like some piece of garbage.  You're the first person that I have met that didn't make me feel that way at all...quite the opposite actually."

The blush that was there when I was embarrassed has now suddenly made itself known again.  The blood pooling in my cheeks and with the combination of the wine, the room suddenly feels awfully hot.  Damn fireplace!

"Thanks..." I stutter, not really sure how to respond.

"See, that's what I mean," he says, sitting up, his forearms resting on his knees and his head turned towards me.  "You don't even realize the calming effect you have on me.  It's like I could sit her all night, just listening to you talk...it's freeing to me.  It's comforting.

Coming here tonight, I never would have imagined that the conversation would have taken a turn quite like this.  I'm not really sure what to say to that, thanks just doesn't seem to cut it.

"You're awfully easy to talk to yourself, ya know," I offer, hoping to draw some of the attention away from myself.

He laughs at that, a smile on his face before he reclines back into the couch.  "Thanks, Taylor."

"Anytime."

The silence that suddenly falls throughout the room has me on edge.  I've never really felt uncomfortable around Justin before but the turn in conversation has me a little jumpy and I don't really know why.

"So, are you nervous for the Olympics?" he asks, looking at me from his stretched out position on the couch.

"Oh God yes," I laugh, thankful for the topic switch to something more neutral.  "Nervous doesn't quite cut it.  This is a defining moment in my career; everything that I have worked for is leading up to those two weeks..."

"I can't imagine what it would be like to compete on that level..."

"Me either, this is my first year finally making the cut.  Four years ago, I crashed and burned in the trials, never making it because of the disqualification.  It's not like the Olympics comes around all the often and a skier's career isn't really about longevity.  After all, the body can only take so much grinding away on the hill."

He shakes his head in astonishment.  "I would crack under that pressure, I think.  I mean, you have one shot to get it right, that's it."

"That's what it's like for me when I think about your career, though, Justin.  I don't think I could stand up in an arena with twenty-thousand eyes all turned on me, watching me sing or dance.  In fact, I would probably be sick."

A laugh suddenly busts through his lips, his eyes crinkling at the side.  "You're worried about twenty-thousand when millions will be watching you race in February.  That's kind of backwards, Taylor..."

I smile at his logic before reaching for my glass and taking another sip of wine.  "It's different...I'm comfortable on skis.  Singing...not so much.  Although, I would love to be able to watch you perform, ya know, return the favor."

"Favor?" he asks, confused.

"Yeah, you came to the hill to support me.  Turnabout is fair play..."

"How about I make you a deal?"

I eye him suspiciously.  "What's the deal?"

"You come to the next event that I perform at and I'll come watch you at the Olympics."

My mouth drops open and my eyes widen almost immediately.  "Now you've lost your mind..."

"Why's that?" he says, sitting up, a smirk on his face.

"I'm just supposed to waltz into an event with you?"

"Yeah, what's the problem?"

"Let's start with the fact that I have never, and I mean never been invited to one of those before..." I hedge, hoping to kind of downplay his whole idea.  It's not that I don't want to go with him; it's just that I don't fit in his world like that.  "And you're going to go to the Olympics?  Do you realize the frenzy that would ensue if you showed up there?"

"So?" he says, shrugging his shoulder.  "The whole invitation thing that you're hung up on...I just did it for you.  So that's taken care of...  And the Olympics, I can be discrete but even if someone spots me, they all know I'm a big boarder."

"So what are you going to say when they ask you why you're at the women's alpine event?"

His eyebrows rise slightly and he looks thoughtful for a second.  "That I am getting a thorough experience, ensuring that I check out all the Olympics have to offer?" He smiles wickedly and lets out a laugh from his lips.

I can't help but return his smile, laughing right along with him, and the sudden tension that was present a little bit ago eases from the room, disappearing all together with his humor.

As the two of us continue to joke, ribbing each other when the opportunity presents itself and encouraging when the insecurities come about, I take a look at my watch, realizing that it's almost midnight.  The two of us have been on the couch, just talking for the last couple of hours, and I must have been completely caught up in his company to not even realize how tired I am or the fact that I still have to be at the office by seven tomorrow morning.

"Wow, it's getting late, Justin," I say, a disappointed smile on my face.  As much as I need to get home, to get some rest from the day so that I can deal with all of the meetings tomorrow, I'm kind of reluctant to leave.  I haven't ever had a night where the conversation just seemed to flow, no need to fill the silences with mindless chatter. 

Unhurriedly, Justin glances at the clock on the mantel, realizing the time.  "I can't believe how late it's already gotten."

"Me too," I answer, standing up and walking into the kitchen.  Gently, I place my wine glass in the sink, rinsing it out as well.  As I turn to exit the kitchen, Justin is standing at the entryway, leaning up against the wall and his arms jammed into his jean pockets.

"I had a really good time tonight with you, Taylor," he says softly as I come to stand by him.  I can't help but let my eyes wander over the brown, thin curls on top of his head, the scruff of a couple days growth on his jaw, and his bright blue eyes.  He's the epitome of rugged right now...and it's suddenly making me a little hot.

Shaking my head, trying to clear my thoughts and return to the moment at hand, I gently place my hand on his forearm.  My fingers softly give a little squeeze of assurance as I walk by him and grab my jacket from the closet.  Quickly, I throw my shoes on as well and place my hat back on top of my head. 

"Thanks, Justin, for dinner and having me over.  I had a great time as well."

He smiles broadly, his white teeth shining brightly.  "Me too."

Reaching for the doorknob, I spot his hand as it quickly enters my line of sight, opening the door for me.  The two of us inhale from the sharp attack of the cold, midnight air, and I turn to face him.

"I'll see you later, Justin, thank you again," I tell him before getting ready to step outside of the comfort of his warm cabin.

His hand suddenly reaches for my own, gently grabbing it and pulling me into a hug.  Comfortingly, his arms wrap around me, holding me against him for a split second before releasing me.  "Congratulations again, Taylor," he says, giving me another smile and leaving me slightly dazed.  Quickly, I regain my composure and turn to leave, thanking the stars that the chill of the air can cool the burning in my cheeks.