Time and Time Again(6)

“Tag, I don’t think—”

“Fine. If you won’t do it, I will,” he murmurs, his eyes darting to my bedroom door.

“I want to be alone.”

“Too bad. We’re going to pack up your shit, and then you’re coming to my house,” he says casually, like he didn’t just announce I was going to stay with him.

“Are you crazy?” I ask, brows furrowing. “I can’t come to your place! I will be fine. I’ll find another apartment or I’ll try and talk to the landlord here and work something out.”

Tag scrubs a hand down his face. “Guess I’ll pack your shit for you then.”

I throw my hands in the air. “You’re not listening to me, Tag!”

He ignores me and storms into my room. I follow closely behind, trying to grab my backpack from him as he starts opening drawers. Jumping on his back, I try and pin his arms down so he will stop touching my stuff, but I fail. Instead, I end up on my back in the middle of my bed, Tag bracing over me. When I look up into his eyes, I find that they are zoned in on me and soft. Gentle.

“Let me help you,” he says in a gentle tone. “Everyone needs help now and again. There is nothing to be embarrassed of. I have a three bedroom house, and there is plenty of room. I like you. You aren’t inconveniencing me in any way. So please stop being stubborn.”

I shift my position then go completely still as I feel something hard pressed against my lower stomach.

Holy crap.

I narrow my eyes on Tag who just smirks. “I have a beautiful woman pinned under me, what can I say?”

He thinks I’m beautiful?

Stay focused, Clara.

I clear my throat. “So I can stay with you until I find a new place?”

He nods. “As long as you need.”

“I’ll pay rent, of course,” I say, nibbling on my lower lip in thought. “That or no deal.”

Amusement dances in his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Tag—”

“Okay, we can work something out. Now, pack your shit. I’m going to call a friend who has a moving truck so we can move your bed and furniture,” he says. “There isn’t much, so it will be easy.”

I exhale slowly. “Fine.”

His lip twitches at my lack of graciousness. “Good. Don’t stress, okay? Everything will be alright.”

“Why are you always saving me?” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

“Clara,” he murmurs.

“Hmmm?”

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

They flutter open.

He swallows, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. After a few moments, his gaze lowers, now lingering on my mouth. “You don’t need saving, Clara. You’re not weak. You’re strong.”

Searching every inch of his face, I can see that he means what he says. In his opinion, I’m not weak at all.

He flashes me a panty dropping smile and then pushes off the bed, reaching his hand out to pull me up.

“Shall we?” he asks. “We better get out of here before I beat the shit out of your landlord.”

Probably a good idea.

Taking his hand, I let him pull me up until I’m standing facing him, our bodies almost touching. Reaching his other hand out, he tucks a strand of hair back behind my ear. I realise his hand is still holding mine.

I like it there. A little too much.

“You good?” he asks.

I nod once. “Yeah, I’m good.”

I step away from him, let go of his hand, and pick up my backpack, forgotten on the floor.

Then, I pack up my life.





That evening, I’m unpacking my belongings in Tag’s guest room. Not everything, just the basics to get me through the next week or so. I don’t plan on being here very long, just as long as it takes to find somewhere new. The room is completely white, except for the black bed sheets. It’s a very modern, tidy room, and I find myself liking it. I find myself liking its owner much more. After helping me pack, Tag called his friend. The two of them carried my furniture and disassembled my bed in record time.

“Clara, dinner’s ready,” Tag calls through the closed door.

I tie my damp hair in a knot on top of my head. “Coming!”

Dressed in a pair of track pants and a tank top, I smell something delicious as I walk barefoot into his kitchen

“You cook too?” I ask, impressed at his skills.

He closes the oven before he replies, “‘Course I do. I hope you’re hungry.”

I look to the table, all the dishes spread out. Roast chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, and asparagus.

“This looks amazing,” I say, my stomach rumbling. I can’t even remember the last time I had such a meal.