#like huh. i doubt anyone who got into shinee later than like 2015 knows this exists

[seilon]

you know what’d be kinda fun to make and that i undeniably have the credentials for. a shinee iceberg

[lonelyandgone]

Previous Chapters:  Teaser/Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

 Unexpected – Chapter 10

 He’s spent the last twenty minutes watching and waiting.  His eyes moving to the door each time it opens, each time providing him with a friend or family member but not her.  He’s smiled and waved, chatted and talked and tried his damndest to be he his typical self but he can tell by the looks he keeps getting from both his mom and Jeremy that his acting skills are failing him now.

He knows he probably shouldn’t be expecting her to show up.  Not after yesterday.  Not after she sat stiffly on his living room couch, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she listened to Haley speak.  She had been polite.  She had been sweet and considerate.  But then she had walked out of his door with her gaze not even meeting his, with her smile slipped downward into a frown.    

She had provided him with the excuse that she wanted to go by the hospital, that when she had talked to them the day before they had mentioned some other patients she may want to visit.  Since she planned to see Emily tomorrow, she had said, maybe I should try to visit the others today.  He knew it had been a lie.  He could read it all over her face, in the darkness of her eyes.  She had provided his mom with a hug and Haley with another shake of the hand before she fell to her knees beside of Dodger and pulled him to her.  

His heart had ached at the scene, at the bond that was so apparent between his beloved dog and the woman he struggles to call his friend.  The bond even more apparent when she rose up, Dodger looking up at her and moaning.  She hadn’t even walked out the door and he missed her.  He understood, he had thought.  Then and now.  He fully understood.  

He considered going to the Four Seasons.  Considered going to the Children’s Hospital.  Even now, part of him wishes that he had.  Then he called her four times, texted five more.  It wasn’t until almost midnight though that he finally got a response.  I got you a ticket for the Patriots opener tomorrow. I had planned to surprise you with it today but you left before I could, he had told her in one of the texts, It’s a thank you for all you did for me and Dodger. Please come.  Please.  He had followed it up with a praying hands emoji and waited with baited breath for a response.  

When it finally came, it was in the form of a simple and direct maybe.  Then, she ceased contact.  

He glances at his watch and then to the field.  It’s ten minutes before the presentation of the Super Bowl trophy and likely ten minutes before he will give up all hope that she’s coming.  He throws a look at Jeremy before he makes his way through the room toward him.  

“I hadn’t decided if you had developed a nervous tick or you were going to try your hand at interior decorating and you really liked the look of that door,” Jeremy squawks before he lifts his beer bottle to his lips and drinks.  “But then . . . .,” he tips the bottle toward him, “your sister mentioned Taylor coming and whatdya know, everything made perfect sense then.  How is the lovely Ms. Swift anyway?”

He shrugs, finding himself partially annoyed at his friends question and partially wanting to talk about what’s been going on with someone . . . . anyone.  “I wouldn’t know,” he says with a shrug and his own swig of beer, “the lovely Ms. Swift has been ignoring me since I arrived back in the States.”

Jeremy cocks an eyebrow, his expression shining with humor.  “Hiddleston find out you were after his woman and tie her down?”

Chris bites at his cheek, shaking his head, before he answers.  “First off, I’m not after her.  Do I want to be after her?  Fuck yes. But I am being as good as I can possibly be.”

“What does that mean,” Jeremy interrupts, tilting his bottle again, “good as you can possibly be. That mean you’ve been bad a little bit too?”

His mind instantly goes into playback mode.  Taylor pinned against his counter as they had sex at his apartment.  Kisses in elevators and on ferris wheels and at sunrises. Flirtations and touches.  

He lowers his chin. “I have perhaps been a step or two over the friend line.”

“One or two,” Jeremy pries, his face showing his obvious skepticism.

He throws his head back, exasperated, “Ok so maybe, sometimes, one or two hundred steps.”

“I knew it,” Renner cockles, “And I’d place bets that Tom has caught wind of your steps and is pulling his woman back in.”  Titling his head to the side, he raises his eyes as if in thought.  “But then again, why would she be in Boston, huh?”

“She came to Boston to bring Dodger back to me,” Chris chimes in.

“For fuckin’ real? Taylor Swift came to Boston just to bring your dog back to you?  What kind of sorcery is this that you have over her?  Cause I can’t get a woman to bring me a cup of coffee from the kitchen to the living room much less someone like Taylor to bring me my dog from wherever the fuck she was at at the time.  Hiddleston better be keeping an eye on you for sure.  Bring out his Loki powers or something because damn, apparently you are good.”

“Do you not remember I just said she is ignoring me?”

“Oh right,” Jeremy says, his expression lightening, “So what exactly did you do to make her decide to ignore you because the way I see it, she brought your dog to Boston because she wanted to see you.  I doubt she was bored and I really doubt she couldn’t find anyone else to do it.  So what did you do?”

He has no chance to answer, his vision immediately pulled to the door behind him when he hears it opening again.  He’s greeted by the sight of a beautiful blonde.  His heart drops a little.  It’s not the beautiful blonde he wanted to see.  Actually, it’s not even one he expected to see.  

“Who is that,” Jeremy questions from beside of him and he takes a swig of his beer before he answers.

He notices Scott walk into the room just behind the woman, his gaze immediately finding Chris’s.  He shrugs, hands outstretched slightly, eyes wide.

“Haley Bennett,” Chris says, mustering a smile for her and his sibling as they enter.    

He hears his friend scoff, can see from the corner of his eyes as he turns his body away and mutters something under his breath.  “So that’s what you did,” he believes he says but he doesn’t question.  He couldn’t even if he wanted to because by the time the words register in his mind, Haley has stepped in near him.

“Hey,” she whispers softly, her brown eyes dancing.  “I hope you don’t mind I came by.  I was sitting at the hotel, bored out of my mind, when I remembered you talking about this game and how excited you were for it.”  Her gaze moves behind him to the field briefly before moving back to him. “I paid an outrageous fortune for a ticket at the top of the stadium but honestly was silently hoping to find you so I could end up here.  I found your brother instead so I guess that works.  If that’s ok with you, of course.”

Lowering his chin, he nods with a smile.  “Yeah, sure. It’s not like I would kick you out, Hales.”

She smiles when he uses her nickname, one that pinches at both of her ears.  It honestly makes him feel uneasy but he pushes the feeling away.

He introduces her to Jeremy and then to his sisters before gesturing to his nieces and nephews playing in the back of the room.  “My dad might be here later,” he says, trying in vain to ignore the multitude of glares and stares around the room.

The door opens again, his eyes flying to it once more.  A waiter enters just as his heart sinks and he turns back to the field.

Haley takes a stand just to his side when the announcement is made that the Super Bowl trophy presentation is about to start.  Jeremy steps in to the other side.  His family also makes their way to the glass, standing with giddy smiles on their faces in anticipation of what is to come.  He notices though that his mother chooses to stand farther back in the room, her hands stuffed in her pant pockets.  He throws her a confused glare but she simply smiles and shakes her head, prompting his eyes back to the field.  

He can feel his elation settle in his body as the ceremony begins.  The cheers are deafening, the excitement compounding.  It’s an amazing and surreal experience, one he wishes he could fully enjoy but he finds his eyes still streaming toward the door even amidst it all.  

“How many super bowls have the Patriots won,” Haley asks, pulling his view.  

“Five,” he answers, clapping his hands as loudly as Mark Wahlberg walks onto the stage.  “2002, 2004, 2005, 2015 and 2017.”

He can feel Haley’s smile without even looking.  “Wow,” she utters, “you are a true fan, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh,” he chuckles, “I’ve seen them win each one.  Each time it gets better.  The last one was the best though.  Everyone had counted them out.  Even part of me had given up on a comeback.  But they did. It was madness.”

She giggles, her smile broad and bright as she joins his applause.  “I bet.”

Kevin Faulk, Matt Light and Deion Branch saunter onto the stage, each carrying a previously won Lombardi trophy, the noise growing louder with each introduction.  

Trophy number four is carried onstage by Julian Edelman.  He leans back in his chair when he sees the injured Patriots wide receiver, catching Scott’s view a few feet away.  “The Squirrel is walking better than I thought he’d be.  Maybe he will make it back this season.” When Scott winks, he chuckles.

“The Squirrel,” Haley says, her eyes focused on the large screen, Edelman’s face prominent on it, “that man looks more like a model than a squirrel . . . . or a football player to be honest.”

“Yeah, I know Scott would agree with you on that one.”  He tosses a side eye toward his brother.  “But that’s Julian Edelman.  Star wide receiver.  Notorious ladies’ man.  Without a doubt, the favorite player of all of my siblings.  Maybe even mine too on some days.”

“He’s nice to watch play,” Shanna barks from her position on the other side of Haley, “you can trust me on that.”

The crowd grows louder as Robert Kraft makes his way onto the stage, the newest Lombardi trophy in hand. The noise is deafening to the point that he can’t even hear the chatter he knows is going on around him.  He flails his arms in the air to cheer himself at a few points, sometimes placing his fingers in his mouth for a screeching whistle, and as the ceremony nears an end, he feels a soft touch on his wrist.

He moves his head as Haley slips onto her tiptoes and places her lips near his ear.  “This atmosphere is amazing,” she says, trying to speak over the crowd.  

His eyes catch on hers as he smiles and nods, enraptured in the moment of his favorite team and their massive win.  She smiles back, keeping her hand on his wrist and her face close to his until he turns away.  

Jeremy taps his shoulder against his then, tossing his head back while keeping his view on the field in front of them.  Chris narrows his eyes momentarily before he follows the direction his friend was indicating, looking back behind him.

He sees his mom first and then follows her gaze to her right.  To a pair of soft blue eyes that are settled on him.  

Taylor.

She smiles when his eyes latch onto hers, her expression warm but those eyes that have haunted him so much, void of their normal vibrancy.  From his side, he can feel Haley’s stare but he ignores it, and her, moving away and taking the few steps needed to get to his mother and Taylor.

“You came,” he says, reaching for her and pulling her to him in a hug.  He can feel her edge, how guarded she seems, and he pulls back to look at her incredulously.  

“Well your mom called and asked me to come,” she says, her lips raising a fraction of an inch, “I figured I couldn’t let Mama Evans down.”

“But you could let me,” he chuckles.  

He watches as Taylor’s eyes move behind him and then back.  “I doubt you would have noticed with the excitement and all.”  Hesitating briefly, she takes a deep breath and forces her smile wider.  “I hope you and Haley had a good day yesterday.”  She smiles, letting her chin slip down.  “And Dodger of course.”  

Squinting his eyes, he gapes at her.  “My mom made lunch.  We ate. By then it was well past check-in time and I asked mom to take her to her hotel.  Dodge and I went for a drive and I tried to reach you.  That was my day and night.”  

He can see the skepticism painting its way across her expression but then her gaze moves again, this time to his other side.  “Regardless, I heard Maren Morris is singing the National Anthem tonight.  I . . . . I don’t want to miss that.”

She starts to step around him but he reaches out and wraps his fingers around her forearm.  “You’re walking away from me already?”

Her gaze slips behind him before she nods and gives him a faint smile.  “I just want to hear her sing.”

She steps away from him the instant he drops his hand from her arm and he turns in time to watch her move to stand in between Carly and Scott.  Scott glances back at him suspiciously when she does.

He shrugs, shaking his head at his brother’s reaction and then pulls the hat from his head as he hears the first notes of the National Anthem being sung.  He somewhat expects her to turn at some point, to throw him that beautiful Taylor smile that she typically reserves for him but she never does. The only person that turns to him after the anthem has ended is Haley.

“I’d love a beer if that’s ok, Chris,” she says, her voice loud against the roar of the crowd.  He turns to look at her as she speaks and from the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Taylor look at her too.

“Yeah,” he answers, slapping his hat back on his head before he moves.  He grabs a beer from the bar and makes his way back to his seat between Haley and Jeremy.

When the game starts, he finds himself fielding questions about plays and penalties from Haley, typically accompanied by a snarky comment or laugh from Jeremy.  He shares at tray of nachos loaded with cheese with Ethan at one point, Haley laughing at his nephew’s inhalation of the food.  

He finds himself though consistently looking across the room at Taylor no matter what he does.  

He watches as she laughs with Scott and seems to get embroiled in a deep conversation with Shanna and Carly.  And then watches more when Miles and Ethan find their way to her, climbing on her and covering her with kisses before she laughs at their Gronkowski jerseys, telling them that Gronk is her least favorite Patriot.  Stella joins her soon after, mimicking Taylor’s words and declaring him her least favorite as well.  

By the second quarter, Jeremy begins tossing him questioning glares, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head back and forth slightly.  He knows what the inquisition is about but he doesn’t know the answer.  

He hates the way it all feels.  Every bit of it.  The game and the way his team is playing.  The atmosphere and the weird, unsaid tension that exists amongst them all.  The way everything feels so unsettled and different.

It’s unnerving and not at all like he anticipated this night would go.  He had expected, or at least greatly wanted, it to go like the Red Sox game had gone before.  Maybe even all the way back to his place like before.  

He’s answering another of Haley’s football questions when time runs out for the first half and the room starts to grow louder with chatter.  He reaches his arms above his head as he stands up and stretches and he hears Haley laughing at his movement.  

He sees her then. Taylor.  She gets up, the first time she’s done so the entire game, and starts toward the back of the room.  She doesn’t allow her eyes to drift anywhere near him when she does and he finds himself wondering if that’s on purpose.

He stares after her, hearing Haley speaking beside of him but not registering the any of her words. She goes to Stella, Ethan and Miles near the door, leaning down and smiling as she talks with them.  It takes no time before Stella’s arms are around her and Taylor lifts back up, clutching his young niece to her.  His nephews run off soon after, Nintendo Switches in their hands, yelling “Go Gronk” as they do.  He watches as Taylor laughs after them, their chiding playful to her.  

Haley says something again, again words he doesn’t truly hear and he glances down at her.  “I’ll be back in a few,” he says, his words hollow to her.  

Turning away from his costar’s stare, he wills himself forward, taking a few steps toward Taylor and Stella.  

It’s just the two of them in the back corner of the room when he gets there.  “You having fun Stell bear,” he asks with a grin, watching as Stella nods her head enthusiastically.  

“I’ve ate seven cookies,” she beams, proudly, “but don’t tell mommy.  She told me I could only have one.  And I’ve won four games of Mario Kart.”

“Ethan letting you win,” he asks with a cocked eyebrow.  

Stella grins. “Nope.  I’m winning all by myself.”

He reaches forward, placing his hand on her head and rubbing it quickly.  “Why don’t you go challenge him to another game.  I thought I heard him say he was letting you win.”

She basically jumps from Taylor’s arms then, sprinting off in search of her brother.  Taylor glares at him.  “Ethan didn’t say anything did he?”

“No,” he chuckles, “but I figured that was the best way to get her away so I could talk to you.”

Taylor lowers her eyes, shaking her head.  “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk you to,” he asks disbelievingly.  

“I can think of some reasons,” she says with the smallest of smiles, “Anyway, you have me.  What do you want to talk about?”

He can feel the trepidation in his bones as his words flow from his lips.  “Why you are ignoring me,” he says quickly.    

Her expression falls but she picks it back up instantly.  “I’m not ignoring you, Chris.  If I was ignoring you, I wouldn’t be here at all.  But I am.”

He takes in her response but shakes his head in disapproval.  “Taylor, you are here but you aren’t.  And you’ve pretty much been distant since I got back home.  I don’t like that.  I miss you.  Hell, even Dodger misses you.  The poor dog whined for an hour after you left my apartment.  I had to give him four of your special cookies just to get him to not pine so much.”

“Sounds like Stella,” she starts but he moves his head more forcibly.

“Don’t change the subject, Taylor.”  He allows his head to fall back for a split second and he looks at the ceiling as he collects his thoughts.  When his chin falls back down, he takes a deep breath.  “I’ve been around you enough to know that something isn’t right. So what is it?  What’s this about?  Is it me?  Is it Haley?” He watches as Taylor’s eyes move instantly behind him at the mention of Haley’s name but she jerks them back just as fast.

She inhales sharply, her gaze slipping.  “It’s not about Haley.  Haley is lovely.  She’s gorgeous and sweet and likeable.”  Moving her head, she bites at her bottom lip.  “And it’s not about you.  Because you are just being you.  I know that.”

“Then what,” he presses, placing his hands on his hips as he watches her.

“It’s just me, Chris. It’s about me.”  Her voice cracks as she seems to force a laugh.  “It’s about me and my silly stupid head. That’s all.”

The confusion sets in within him immediately and he narrows his gaze on her.  “That’s all?”

“I’m not being a good friend, I know,” she says with another forced laugh, “And I should be because that’s what I promised to you.  I do only want your happiness.”

“Taylor,” he says, dragging out her name in exasperation, “are you implying that I’m happy with Haley? Because we are just friends.”

Taylor’s lips move up, a gentle smile peaking.  “Yeah, and so are you and I.”  Her eyes move then and he doesn’t have to follow them to know she is looking at Haley. “You know, I was talking with Emily today at the hospital and I was watching how her eyes changed when she would talk about you.  It was like a fire would ignite in them.  The sparkle. The adoration so apparent.  It honestly made me miss you.”  She laughs briefly but then shakes her head, her eyes settling on Haley again.  “And then I’ve watched Haley today and remembered how she looked at your place. She has the same sparkle, the same look of adoration on her face every time she’s near you.  I know the look . . . . and the feeling . . . . well.  Of connection.  Of yearning and longing.”

He narrows his eyes on her. “You know it from Tom,” he asks, his heart twinging with merely speaking his name.

She smiles a half-smile and then lets it fall, along with her gaze.  “I did feel it with Tom and . . .,” she takes a deep breath and lets it slip back through her pierced lips.  “I just know how it is, Chris.  I know what’s going through Haley’s head right now and how she’s feeling towards you.”

“I’m really not sure what you are saying, Taylor,” he says, cocking his head to the side.  

“I’m not really sure either,” she sighs, momentarily placing her glassy gaze on his, “I’m just saying that it’s obvious that Haley is here for you and wants to be with you.  And . . .”

“And . . .,” he pushes, his head swimming again, “are you telling me that I should notice that?  That I should consider that?”

She seems to freeze then, her head downtrodden, her breathing seeming to vanish.  It takes a few seconds for her to shake her head. “I can’t tell you that because it’s your life, Chris.  Not mine.”

He glances behind him, following Taylor’s gaze again, to Haley.  She smiles softly when she sees him and then gets up, starting to move in their direction.  

“She thinks I’m a threat to her,” he hears Taylor say, springing his view back to her.  She doesn’t look at him.  

“Are you,” he asks, his heart pounding so steadily against his chest that it feels as if he can’t breathe.

She seems to contemplate his question, glancing at him and at Haley before she sighs.  “Obviously not.”

“Taylor,” he begins, wanting to press her words even more, wanting to ignore the pain they bring to him, but he’s interrupted before he can.

“Chris,” Haley says, her voice virtually singing, “I was telling Jeremy about the movie and he was asking about the story behind it.  I thought maybe you could explain it better.”

He breathes heavily. “I’m busy right now . . .”

“No, it’s fine,” Taylor says, her eyes on his briefly before moving to Haley’s, “he’s all yours.”

She starts to walk off then but he grabs her arm, pulling on it slightly until she reaches him again. “Not yet.  I haven’t even got to ask you the one question I came over here to ask.”

“What’s that,” she says quickly, her gaze hooding.  

“What you said you were going to tell me when I was in South Africa and you’ve yet to do.  I need to know, Taylor.”  He glances at Haley and then back to her.  “You said face to face when I was home.  I’m home.  We’re face to face.  You were prepared to tell me before and I’m ready to listen.  Please tell me.”  

She shakes her head and then smiles hesitantly.  “There’s no use even saying it anymore, Chris,” she whispers, “I think it will only bring heartache.”  She then turns her head back in Haley’s direction.  “All yours.”

His hand falls from her arm as she walks away and his eyes follow her as she returns to her seat beside of his sister, Carly throwing a look his way before he reluctantly moves toward Haley.

He spends the entirety of the third quarter and the beginning of the fourth thinking of Taylor’s words, her reluctance and her resistance.  He tries to smile when he needs to smile and cheer when he needs to cheer, hoping to not clue everyone in the room in on the massive amount of convoluted thoughts roaming and rampaging through his head destructively.

Jeremy hands him a beer five minutes into the fourth quarter, shaking his head in disgust as he does so.  “This game isn’t even worth being sober for.  We should have just handed them the W when Hightower went out.”

“Yeah, probably,” he replies, not even remembering Hightower’s injury until his friend brings it up.  Saying he has been completely uninterested in this game would be an understatement and he’s fairly certain Jeremy knows that.  

He’s also fairly certain his friend can sense the discomfort and uneasiness written all over him. “Drink that,” Jeremy chimes again, nodding toward the bottle in Chris’s hand.  

He does just that, flipping off the top and taking a long drink.  He’s tilted his head back for another when he sees Jeremy glance behind them and then do a double take.  

“Aww fuck, Edelman,” he laughs, bounding from his seat before Chris even finishes his drink.  

Haley’s eyes follow his pal just as his do and he finds him nearing the Patriots wide receiver as he walks in the door.  

He catches Scott’s eyes as he stands up, laughing just a bit when his brother wriggles his eyebrows at him, and then lets his gaze catch on Taylor as he starts to walk.  She looks at him only long enough to look back away. He desperately tries to ignore the reaction in his heart.

“Nice to see you again, Cap,” Julian cockles, taking his hand and shaking it firmly when he reaches him, “Robert told me you were in your box so I thought I’d try to not see the rest of this pathetic game and come and say hello.”

“Not much worth seeing down there anyway,” Jeremy laughs, tossing his head back toward the field, “why’d you have to get injured again?”

Julian moves his head, smiling widely.  “Preseason sucked, that’s for sure.”

He’s watching the football player’s face when he sees his view gravitate behind him.  He squints for a moment and then his smile grows even wider than before.  “Is that Taylor Swift,” he asks, throwing his head back a bit.  

Right away, he glances behind him, catching sight of Taylor beside of Carly.  He nods.  “Yeah.”

He hears Julian snicker and then hum.  “She here with you,” he asks, cocking an eyebrow, his grin increasing.  He already knows where this is going, the knot tightening harder and harder in his stomach revealing that

His voice lumps in his throat, feeling like a softball stuck there, preventing him from breathing or speaking.  He looks back at her again and shakes his head, coughing a little to catch a breath. “No.”  

“So she’s not your girl,” Edelman asks, his question loaded, his words laced with hopefulness and pretension.  

He feels Jeremy’s eyes on him instantaneously.  “Nope,” he chokes out, pulling his beer bottle to his lips and taking another long drink.  

“But I believe she’s got a man,” Jeremy adds, his gaze now roving.  Chris knows what he’s doing.  He’s trying to throw Edelman off for his sake.  He also knows that it’s highly unlikely it’s going to work.  

“Man.  No man.  It’s all the same if they aren’t here and there is no ring,” Julian laughs, “And she looks pretty goddamn hot.  Gronkowski is going to fucking flip his lid when he finds out she was here.”

“She doesn’t like Gronkowski,” Jeremy adds, his eyes switching back and forth between the two.

Julian snickers. “That’s alright.  I bet she’ll like me though.”  

He can feel his cheeks growing hot, knows that he is unconsciously clenching and unclenching his free fist and locking his jaw.  His gaze is heavy on Edelman when he shakes his head.  “Anyway, when’s the next Avengers movie filming?”

He fights with his annoyance, unlocking his jaw long enough to force an off putting grin.  “Starts next week.”

“Captain America biting the dust in this one,” Julian continues with a raised eyebrow.

He coughs out an uncomfortable laugh.  “Can’t tell you that.”

“Yeah, I got it.  Top secret shit.  Like play sheets,” he winks and then snorts heavily.  

“Oh that’s low,” Jeremy howls, “really fucking low man.”

Julian throws his hands out, holding them out in front of him.  His smile is bright and mischievous.  “It’s best to make jokes out of crappy situations.  Like we should probably be making a joke about this shitty game right now. Maybe at least joke about Gronk looking like a stud out there or something.”

“Or that Bill forgot to give you all a practice session with fully inflated balls and that’s why we’re playing like shit,” Carly yells from her position behind them.   His eyes immediately draw to his sister, to the woman sitting beside of her, her attention now on the man near him for the first time.  

Edelman points at Carly, cackling.  “Haha . . . . good one.  See, that one knows how to make a joke about a joke.”  His eyes then move over a couple inches and Chris feels a punch in his stomach.  “What about you,” Julian asks, his gaze fully engrossed on Taylor, “you have a Patriots joke for me.”

Chris watches as Taylor smiles softly, her eyes focused solely on the brooding footballer standing beside of him.  “Just that your tight end must be a joke if he’s making videos with Katy Perry.”

Julian’s face lights up as the room erupts in laughter, both he and the player's eyes never leaving the leggy blonde near the glass.  “I agree with you there,” Julian spouts, “but if you’re looking for a video costar anytime soon to combat Gronk and Katy, I’m more than willing to provide my services.”

From Julian’s other side, he sees Jeremy shake his head.  “I’m sure you will,” he mutters.  

Taylor though says nothing, simply smiling and nodding until she pulls her gaze from Edelman, glancing at him and then moving her eyes over slightly.  It’s then that he notices that Haley has taken a stand beside of him.  

Edelman notices as well. “Julian Edelman,” he says, reaching his hand out.  

She takes it, shaking it lightly.  “Haley Bennett.”

The younger man winks at him when he drops her hand and starts to turn back away.  “So that one’s yours,” he laughs, prompting the knot in his stomach to tighten even more.  

He doesn’t even have a nanosecond to respond as Julian slaps his shoulder.  “I’m going to chat with the ladies,” he says before he walks off. Chris doesn’t even have to follow his movement to know that his sights are set on Taylor but even though he knows that, he watches after him anyway.  

Julian takes little time in planting himself in a chair just behind Taylor and then leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees.  He says something, who fucking knows what, and Taylor smiles.  Her cheeks tint with pink and the knot grows. Then it twists as he watches her smile brighten and her laughter blossom in the room.

The emotions start bubbling in his chest.  The fear. The loathing.  The motherfucking insane jealousy.  This isn’t at all what he expected this night to be like.  Not with Haley attached to his side, confusion eating away at every fiber in his soul and Taylor getting eye fucked by Julian Edelman.

And then there’s the tension.  Heavily apparent amongst everyone in the room outside of the duo chatting near the windows closest to the field.  He feels Shanna’s roaming gaze switching from his mom, to Jeremy, to him and then to Haley before quickly scanning over to Taylor and Julian.  

“So Haley,” she says loudly, her words quickened, likely by nerves, “How are you enjoying Boston?”

He knows that she is making an attempt, any attempt really, to pull attention away from Taylor and Julian but in the back of his mind, he curses her for doing so with Haley.  But her aim at diversion works, for as soon as Haley starts to respond, Taylor turns her attention to her.

“It’s been good so far,” Haley responds, “but I haven’t been able to do too much.  I know Chris gave me the 411 about how amazing Boston is on the plane ride from South Africa but I haven’t been brave enough to explore the city on my own.”  Taylor’s eyes shift, landing on his for a short time before she shifts them back to Haley.  

Haley turns slightly in her chair, looking at him.  “I was hoping, maybe, that you would be willing to show me around some tonight. I’ve been wanting to try Mike’s cannoli because you raved about it so much.”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even have a chance to, his words and thoughts cut off by Julian. “Not Mike’s man, you want the best cannoli in Boston, you have to get Modern.”

Chris clears his throat, searching for his voice again and forcing a chuckle as he points at Taylor. “You’re girl there disagrees with that. She’s tried both.  With me,” he emphasizes, “and chose Mike’s.”

Edelman’s eyes sparkle, his grin sinful and straight, as he turns to her.  “Well I guess then it’s time for you to try them both again.  And you can let me show you more of Boston at the same time.”

His head literally feels like it’s about to explode.  His thoughts and emotions cascading through him like a fucking waterfall, beating and beating over and over again, wearing him down.  He clenches his eyes shut, his jaw at the same time.  When he shakes his head, he hears Shanna speak up again.

“Um,” she stutters, “let’s talk about South Africa.  Chris, how was it.”

Diversion. Again.  But he can’t even find any words to say or enough energy to even push his eyes open at the moment.

When he doesn’t respond, Haley does.  “It was beautiful.  Such a gorgeous county with warm and beautiful people.  We all had an amazing experience.  And the food there was sensational, unlike anything I’ve ever had before.”

His eyes slowly rise back open then, revealing themselves onto Taylor, her gaze surprisingly now on him too.

Haley continues. “There were a few of us who went out at times to this local place.  Amazing food. Electric atmosphere.  Pretty awesome booze too,” she laughs, “Chris got drunk this one night there.  After I pretty much begged him to come. He drank tequila of all things . . . in South Africa.”  Taylor’s eyes fall a bit.  “And he starts raving about someone joking with him before about falling in love with costars and Michiel volunteers to be the costar this time.  Then one of your songs came on.”  Taylor’s gaze springs back up, this time to Haley and then to him. “I don’t remember which one it was but one of your songs came on the radio and he made the bartender turn it off.”

“Ouch,” Julian says with a chuckle but Taylor simple shakes her head.

“That’s quite alright. He’s admitted to me that he would have chosen Katy Perry over me and I admitted that I would choose Chris Hemsworth over him.  Perhaps they should have played Roar.  Or better yet, Swish Swish.”

“Or Feels,” Haley laughs, he knows attempting to join in with the sarcasm but realizing her inappropriate move once the words are shared aloud, “I’m sorry, that was crossing the line.”

Taylor shakes her head. “It’s ok.”

Julian throws his hands up, looking around the room at his family members and then him.  “For what it’s worth, I’ve always preferred Taylor to Katy.”

“Me too,” his mom chimes in, the first time she’s done so all night.  He glances at her and she nods.

On the field, far from the minds of everyone in the room, the game comes to an end.  He glances at the scoreboard only long enough to acknowledge the dismal loss.  

“So is that ok?”  His gaze moves to Haley again.  

“Is what ok?”

“A tour of Boston? Cannoli.”

Beside of him, he hears Jeremy snicker.  “Yeah, probably.  Soon,” he musters, turning to his friend and rolling his eyes at him before he steps away from Jeremy and Haley and moves to the counter.  

He grabs another bottle of beer, flips the top off and downs two quick drinks before Jeremy saunters over. “I know I shouldn’t say this,” his friend begins, “especially with the amount of weirdness in this room right now, but this is fucking awesome.  Like I need popcorn and one of those fancy movie theater seats that recline because this is so much better than any rom com I’ve ever watched.  Not that I’ve watched any.”  He winks.  “You got Haley over there batting her eyelashes and virtually panting for you. And then you have sex on legs Edelman blatantly wanting to fuck Taylor up against the wall.  And then, my friend, there is you . . . who is fucking this all up.  You got that right?”  

He takes another drink. “Yep, I got that.”

“So what you gonna do about it?”

He shrugs, “What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?  Taylor is my goddamn friend.  She basically told me that she knows how Haley feels about me because she felt that way about Tom.”

“You just said the word felt,” Jeremy snickers, “past tense.  Felt.  You realize that right?”

“I don’t know what I fucking realize,” Chris exasperates.  

Jeremy looks at him then, the humor now vanished from his eyes and replaced with perplexation. “Well you better figure it out before you really fuck this all up.  Because the last thing I heard when I was near Taylor and Julian was Edelman telling her every woman just needs a good orgasm every now and then.  For stress management purposes of course.  And Taylor certainly looks stressed.  And Edelman is way more than willing to provide her with as many orgasms as she needs to release that stress.”

He can feel the daggers in his own eyes.  They are the same ones jabbing his heart and piercing his stomach.  He clenches his jaw and shakes head.  

“Another side note,” Jeremy adds, pushing the daggers even farther, “Your mother asked me to give Taylor a ride to the hotel.  Which likely means she came here thinking you would give her a ride home.  But that was before Haley hijacked any chance Taylor would ask you that and before Julian stepped into this room and started asking her to let him give her tours of Boston, tastes of cannoli and tastes of other things.”

He says nothing, only watches from his position at the counter as Taylor gets up from her chair, moving away from Julian long enough to wrap his nieces and nephews in hugs and place goodnight kisses on their cheeks.  Her eyes latch on his as he moves back to her seat and that knot in his stomach tightens to the point of breaking when he sees Julian lean closer to her, placing his hand on her knee.  

His eyes slam shut as he twists his head to the side.  He waits a few seconds before he inhales sharply and his lids fly back open.  

He glances at Jeremy, tipping his chin slightly, before he places his beer bottle on the counter and walks off toward Taylor and Julian.  

“Taylor,” he says, keeping his gaze solid on her and not on the man beside of her.  She looks at him blankly.  “C’mon, let me give you a ride.”

Julian laughs and even though he doesn’t move his eyes to him, he can see him nodding.  “You said Taylor wasn’t here with you so I don’t think she was expecting you to give her a ride.  Your girl over there . . . that’s a different story.  She’s waiting on you to give her a ride and probably a lot more,” his laugher bellows, “I promise to get Taylor back safely.  And I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

As if on cue and as if in conspiracy, Haley walks up beside of him.  He sees Taylor’s eyes flutter shut then and she hesitates momentarily before opening them again.  

“Thank you for the offer, Chris,” she says softly, licking and then biting at her bottom lip, “but go ahead and take Haley for her tour.  Maybe a visit to Mamma Maria’s and cannoli in the elevator to follow. Julian can take me to the hotel or I can call Brandon.”

He shakes his head, conflicted, but fully aware that he has no way out.  Not one avenue.  Not one fucking foot path.  

“I don’t know who Brandon is but there is no need to call him.  I’ll take you,” Julian exclaims, “It’s really no problem.  And Chris . . .” He turns to face him, grinning wildly. “Chris can take Haley.  Just like the pretty lady asked him to.”

It’s a sucker punch to his gut.  A full on, Connor McGregor type blow that is quickly followed by the Floyd Mayweather Jr. knockout.  Taylor stands up, taking one step forward and wrapping her arms lightly around his shoulders in a cold and awkward embrace.  “Give Dodger kisses for me,” is all she says before she turns around and walks away, Julian Edelman right behind her, the football player placing his hand on the small of her back as she waves at his family and Edelman guides her out of the door.

Motherfucking fuck is the only words scorching through his mind.  Over and over.  Doing flipflops and nose dives with daggers.  MOTHERFUCKING FUCK.

His eyes meet Jeremey’s and his jaw goes rock solid.  

His friend simply shakes his head and takes another drink of beer.

 He finds himself driving through the streets of Boston two hours later.  Two hours after he gave in to a pleading Haley to introduce her to Mike’s pastry and one hour after he dropped her at her hotel with a simple goodbye.

He knows it was rude. Knows damn well that he shouldn’t have even taken her anyway, that he should have just begged Jeremy to give her a ride or show her around Boston.  Hell, he knows his pal has been here enough times to at least provide her with the basics and maybe even provide her with a new goddamn distraction.

But the second Taylor walked out the door with Julian Edelman on her heels; he lost all sense of rationale and reason.  There was part of him, a big part he admits, that wanted to take Haley back to her hotel and fuck her just out of spite.  There was an even bigger part of him that wanted to follow Taylor and Julian out the door and, at least attempt, to beat the shit out of the brooding football player.  But it was the part of him that Lisa Evans shot her knowing glare at after Taylor and Julian’s exit that he felt most compelled to go with.  At least mainly go with.  

So he put on his nice guy/friend face and showed Haley 3.5 seconds of Boston, made sure she got a cannoli stuffed in her face and then, like the gentleman his mother raised, took her to her hotel and left her completely and utterly alone.  Unlike the gentleman his mother raised though, he’s been fuming and furious as he’s drove around Boston, trying with absolutely no success to get the image of Taylor of Julian out of his mind.

He doesn’t recall actually making a conscious decision to end up on Boylston Street though.  He honestly doesn’t even recall actually driving here, the streets all but lost as he passed down them.  But when he pulls up in front of the Four Seasons hotel and the bellhop makes his way to his door, he figures there is no turning back now.

He tosses him his keys, makes his way inside and heads toward the penthouse elevator.  

“Taylor’s expecting me,” he says to the surprised lift attendant, rattling him enough with his knowledge of Taylor being there that he doesn’t question if indeed she is aware of his arrival.

He allows him in without a single word, pressing the penthouse button on the panel and the elevator starts to lift.  

Its only then that he considers Taylor’s reaction.  That perhaps she will be livid with his unannounced visit, or at the very least, shocked.  And as quickly as that consideration comes into his mind, another thought slices like a knife through it.  That perhaps she will be wrapped around Julian Edelman.

MOTHERFUCKING FUCK.

He’s two seconds from telling the attendant to just take him back down when the bell chimes and the door opens.  In front of him is a large black door, a shiny silver P on it.  He stares at it for a few moments before he hears the man clear his throat.  “We’re here,” he says, his tone pointed and obvious.  

He tosses the man a twenty dollar bill and a sarcastic smile and then steps out, waiting on the elevator to close behind him before he steps closer to the door.

He rasps on it once, then twice, before he hears her voice.  

“Brandon,” she questions, her voice close enough to tell him she’s just on the other side of the door.

“No,” he replies, “Not Brandon.”

The door swings open instantly, Taylor’s prying eyes on his just as quickly.  “What are you doing here?”

He knows he probably shouldn’t give her the once over, especially not with the leering look she’s placed on him.  But he does. Moving his eyes down her body, letting them linger on the Patriots shirt she now wears as a nightgown and then down, down those never-ending legs to her bare feet.  

He takes one step forward, stopping just in front of her as she stands in the doorway and he raises his hand to her neck, running one finger along the thin chain that lies there. He feels the goosebumps rising on her skin as his fingers trail down, padding against more flesh when he reaches the edge of her shirt and pinches the chain, pulling the rest of it out from under the fabric.  

He eyes it.  “My necklace,” he says.

She shakes her head then, stepping back and forcing him to let go of it.  He watches it fall back to her chest.  “No, it’s my necklace.  Unless you want it back.”

He howls, his laughter rocking against the walls.  “I don’t want it back.”  His gaze trails down, back over her again.  “But I can’t say I like it much with that shirt.”

“It’s a Patriots shirt. I thought they were your team.” The sarcasm is heavy in her tone, even heavier in her expression and he can feel a warmth seeping into his face as his irritation is fueled.  

“They are my team but they aren’t yours.  I’d say I’m surprised you are wearing it, especially since that is definitely not what you were wearing at the game, but that would be a lie.”  His eyes move over her again.  “I have no doubt Edelman gave you that shirt,” he smirks when he sharply pulls his eyes back up.

“Actually he did,” she says, her voice bathed in mockery and inflammation, his own irritation growing by the second.  

“Oh great.  So where is Mr. Wonderful now,” he asks, his eyes roving behind her, searching for any inkling of Julian even if he doesn’t want any inkling of him anywhere.  

She scoffs, her voice echoing, cutting through the room.  “What do you care?”

“I don’t,” he lies. He steps inside the room, continuing to talk but not turning to look at Taylor.  “I’m just a little bit shocked that you actually left with a man you’d known for a total of twenty minutes.  I figured I’d better come check on you so Brandon doesn’t kill me for letting you leave.”

“But you did let me leave,” she laughs, slamming the door shut and walking into the room herself. He watches her as she does, watching the way her ass moves against the thin fabric of the shirt, her fucking insanely perfect her legs look, even if walking away from him.  “I figured you’d be happy I left with Julian anyway.  I gave you what you wanted.”

“And what was it that I wanted, Taylor,” he hisses.

She moves to the counter, grabbing a bottle of red wine and a glass and pouring herself some. “Haley. I figured perhaps you’d give her the same tour of Boston that you gave me.  That one ended the way I’m sure she wanted hers to end as well. ”

Placing his hands on his hips, he laughs sarcastically, lowering his eyes briefly to the floor.  “Are you jealous of her?”

He looks up to find her staring at him, a hard smirk on her lips.  “No.  No.  I have no reason to be jealous of her.”

His jaw clenches as he lowers his chin one single time.  “You’re right, you have absolutely no reason to be jealous of her.”

“Great,” she says, raising her glass to him, “But I’m not jealous of her so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Good.”

“Great,” she emphasizes again, taking another drink of her wine.  

He takes a few more steps in, his face still aflame with the heat of their interaction.  When he steps to the counter, he reaches across, grabbing the bottle of wine from in front of her and popping the cork out.  He takes a drink directly from the bottle, letting the smoky red Malbec burn down his throat.  

When he no longer feels the sear, he drills his gaze into her. “Did you fuck him?  Wrap your legs around his waist and ride him?  Or maybe a romp on the couch or the balcony for that matter.  I’ve heard stories about him.  A hellavu lot of stories.  He show you how kinky he is or did you show him?”  She shakes her head, watching his feverish rant with her mouth partially open. “He get your sunset kisses? Moonlit sex.  Let me guess,” he howls, throwing his gaze upward.  “You’ve already wrote a song about your secret rendezvous with the Patriots sex god.”  

She immediately huffs, tilting her head back and shaking it.  He can tell by her expression that she’s pressing her tongue into the roof of her mouth, trying to get herself not to talk back.  It does no good.

“Do you think I’m a whore,” she seethes, her vibrant blue eyes now electric on him, “Why the fuck are you here Chris?  Did you come here to yell at me?  To lecture me?  To keep your tabs.  Because I’m really confused as to why you are here because two hours ago, you didn’t seem to give a shit if I fucked Julian or not.”  She cocks her head to the side, a sardonic laugh escaping her lips.  “Oh . . . or maybe you want me to sleep with him? Is that it?  You came here to give me a high five.  Your friend bedded your favorite wide receiver.”

He shakes his head feverishly, his nerves on end.  “No.”

“You get cool points for that,” she continues, her eyes boring into him, “You want me to fuck Edelman? What you get a better in with the Patriots if I’m screwing their star?  Take one for the team, Taylor.  Literally.  Is that what you want?  Or maybe Gronkowski?  He’s sent me messages on social media.  Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone and get you easy access to these guys and get Gronk to forget about Demi and Katy if I jump in the sack with him.”

The heat that’s been building inside of him is scorching him now, searing his every nerve, ever bone. She looks at him and he can tell that she knows, that she’s well aware that she’s generating this explosive reaction in him.  He watches as her expression falls ever so slightly as she turns away.

“Julian seems like an amazing guy,” she says, “He was nice to me and was a gentleman like he promised.”

“Ok, great,” he says, the words cutting, not calm.

“And you want to know the truth, for a second I considered sleeping with him.  I gave it a nanosecond of thought.  But I couldn’t because I’m not a whore who sleeps with a man the first night she meets him and my stupid heart is on reserve anyway so my stupid brain wouldn’t even let me consider it too long.”

“What does that mean,” he demands, his voice tethered.  

“It means that you’re silly for even showing up here asking me if I fucked Julian Edelman.  I’m not that type of woman.  Apparently you think I am but I’m not.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he taunts, his skin ablaze, his thoughts incoherent and jumbled.

She leans forward, placing her hands on the counter and leaning into them slightly.  “I’m not the one who showed up at your place demanding to know if you fucked Haley.”

He cocks his eyebrow up, his words springing forth without much consideration.  “Do you want to know if I slept with Haley?”

She shakes her head. “Honestly, no I don’t.”

“Why,” he pushes, following her lead and pressing his hands onto the counter, his gaze hard on her.  

She shakes her head feverishly.  “This isn’t about me and my need to pry into your life.  This is about you in mine.  You came here.  You started spouting about Julian.”

“You’re wearing his goddamn shirt, Taylor,” he virtually yells, throwing his hand out in front of him, directing it at her clothing.

“It’s a new shirt, Chris. He didn’t take it off of his back. It doesn’t smell like his cologne or his sweat or his fucking pheromones.  He literally had the shirt in the backseat of his car, in a freaking box with several other that look just like this, and he asked me if I wanted one.  This isn’t my reward for sleeping with him.  I didn’t steal it off the floor after I ripped it off his chest.”  She raises her hands to her face, cupping her temples as she looks at the ceiling.  “Do you honestly still think I slept with him? I told you I didn’t.  But maybe I really fucking should have.”

He shrugs, rolling his head. “Maybe you should have.”

Turning on his heels, he walks away from the counter, moving quickly back in the direction of the door. Once he is there, he grabs hold of the handle, slinging the door open and standing to the side of it.  “There you go.  If you’ve had a change of your stupid heart or stupid mind,” he mocks her, “then there you go.  Go find him. I’m sure he left you his number and I’m very sure he’d haul his ass back over here just for you.  So go get your Julian.  Maybe Tom won’t mind sharing you.”

She shakes her head, biting at her bottom lip.  “And you said I’m ridiculous.  Why do you care who I sleep with,” she shouts as she steps out from behind the counter, “Don’t act like you’re so self-righteous.  That you are standing on some moral high ground.  You aren’t my bodyguard.  You aren’t my protector.  You aren’t my boyfriend.”

He feels his grip on the door handle tighten as her words impale him.  His jaw ticks and he shakes his head slowly, reaching his free hand out to his side.  “You think I’m not acutely aware of that?”

He watches as her expression completely changes then.  How the fiery red that has been coursing her veins and staining her neck drains to white. She puts her gaze on the floor, her voice vanishing from the room.  

His gaze is still on her when he sees her breathing even out and sees a gentle sheen settle into her eyes. She looks up at him, her mouth slightly ajar, and stares for a few fleeting moments.  

“What’s that look for,” he says, his heart beating like a drum by the sheer and utter confusion not only of the moment but by the change that’s taken place in her expression, in her body language.

“I get it now,” she says softly, her words such a stark contrast to earlier that he barely even comprehends them.

She takes a step toward him. Slowly.  And then another.  His eyes grazing hers and her body with each step.  And then she picks up the pace just a bit, taking step after step until she reaches him.

She grabs the edge of the door, pushing it hard and waiting for it to slam shut.  He jumps a touch when it does.  

Then, without any warning, she steps into his still outstretched arms, pressing onto her tiptoes as she grasps his face in her hands and presses her lips to his.