As Taylor sat in the dark, his anxiety escalated. Uncertain if she would actually come and when it might happen, his impatience made the wait agonizing. This impatience also played a role in his job search, as he tended to give up quickly rather than waiting. The act of waiting drove him to the brink of madness, yet he remained on the swing, attempting to distract himself from painful thoughts.
The waiting felt like an eternity, prompting a moment of contemplation about heading back home and executing his previous plan. However, curiosity about Amelia kept him rooted on the swing, stiff and watchful like a guard dog awaiting its owner.
When he spotted the car's headlights, Taylor straightened on the swing, attempting to erase any foolish expression and maintain a serious demeanor. Changing positions on the swing to find a more presentable look, he settled with elbows on knees and chin on hands to avoid appearing creepy.
Amelia's arrival heightened the tension, and Taylor, unable to see her face due to the blinding headlights, felt drawn to her brown curls. Clenching his jaw, he pushed himself up from the swing, aiming for a natural movement despite the pain.
Walking up to a porch column, Taylor leaned against it, crossing his arms, and observed Amelia with a stern expression, though a mischievous spark glinted in his eyes.
His low voice broke the silence, "This is private property, Miss," accompanied by a smirk. He pushed off the column, making his way down the stairs with a casual stride, hands in his cargo pants.
Approaching Amelia with a lingering smirk, Taylor clenched his fists in his pocket, masking the pain in his back. He stood tall, subtly leaning to the left to seem nonchalant.
As he stood a head taller than her, Taylor leaned down to look at her, the smirk persisting. He had a faint scent of nutmeg and pine.
"I was thinking you wouldn’t come, Amelia," he smiled, scanning her face. Leaning in, he delicately touched one of her curls, testing the waters
