Taylor smiles at the cashier in Starbucks. I know that smile so well - not that it's ever been aimed in my direction. But back to the smile: it's a smile where his teeth are showing only just slightly, the corners of his mouth are turned up in a more curvaceous fashion than usual and his lips are almost in a pout. His eyes become focused on the recipient of the smile and it's like there's something physically reaching out and pulling them into his eyes. It's the "I'm flirting with you" smile. Taylor has an ingenious way of flirting. His methodology is impeccable. He flirts very obviously but in such a way that's in not misconstrued as sleazy. He's a genius in the field. He should have PhD in flirting. Dr Taylor. Dr Love.

I stand there tapping my foot lightly. My patience is wearing thin. Unfortunately there's no one else waiting in line behind us. My luck. I bet this is the one Starbucks in New York that doesn't have anyone waiting in line. I stare up at the boards, who knew that there was such a thing as a Skinny Double shot Machiatto White flat orange pink espresso?

Taylor's laugh vibrates next to me. Oh, gag. My intestinal reflexes seem to be ready to bring up the tuna sandwich I had for lunch. Shouldn't she be reviewing company policy? The policy that says "Don't flirt with customers". My eye skits across her name badge. "Larissa" is the name "Manager" is the game. Which explains a lot.

This is ridiculous. Lately it feels like I can't even go out with Taylor without him chatting up five girls on a minimum and getting at least three numbers. For crying out loud, if he feels the need to spread his seed couldn't he at least get a permanent girlfriend and sleep with her constantly? He could do that instead of whoring himself around the city.

A couple walks in behind us and line up. I nudge Taylor and he wraps up his conversation. We walk out of there and I grit my teeth together. We walk out of there finally.

"She was cute, wasn't she?" Taylor smirks,

"Yeah. Super Hot," I retort,

"Jealous?"

"Of her, hardly,"

"That's a bit bitchy," Taylor observes,

"Hmm," I reply. It is bitchy. I don't blame Larissa for succumbing to Taylor's flirting. It'd be like the song of the Sirens. He's like a peacock, spreading his colourful feathers for all to see and admire. And screw.

This is getting seriously ridiculous though. I don't know why this is bothering me so much but... I suppose it's because I can't believe that he's being this stupid. The normal, sweet, sensitive Taylor has taken a backseat and let this predator on the loose. What's wrong with him? He normally respects everyone and is such a gentleman; you know the type that puts the hand on the small of your back when you walk up stairs so you don't fall? Someone who opens doors for you. Someone who calls when he says he will.

It's not only that Taylor's changed but it's the safety aspect of it as well. What about STD's? Sure there's protection but it's not a hundred percent safe. What if he sleeps with someone who has AIDS and the condom breaks? He just doesn't seem to be giving that sort of thinking any priority lately. I feel like slapping him in the back of the head. I somehow don't think he'll take that very well though.

"Maybe she'll call," he muses,

"Yeah. Do you reckon she'll be a good fuck?" I spit, raise my eyebrow at him and cross the street. He looks taken aback.

"Are you mad?"

"No, never mind," I sigh, "Just PMS-ing," I state, not wanting to launch into an argument.