Gia looks at me from behind a big pile of my clothing. What? The only excuse I can offer is that my sartorial preferences are very eclectic.

"Taylor, do you realise that I've counted tour different black turtlenecks, seven pairs of jeans and three different brown cords. How on earth are we going to fit this into this room?"

"We'll fit it," I reply confidently,

"We?" She raises her eyebrow,

"Yeah," I grin at her, "We,"

"You hold high hopes young man," she mutters, "I didn't hear that," I reply in a sing-song voice. Gia's taught me her special Banana Republic folds. I place my red shirt on top of my three other red shirts. We work in silence for a few minutes. It's amazing, just being able to be this close to her, "So did you prefer living in the NYU dorms or here?" I ask,

"Well I've only been living here for three weeks,"

"And so far?"

"Here, definitely. I'm more comfortable around you, duh,"

"You know," I start, "We haven't talked much over the last month. Mostly just moving details,"

"I know,"

"So... tell me, what's been up?"

"Nothing much, pretty stable. You?"

"Nothing really, what about this Prada interview?" I ask. She's applied for a salesperson position at the boutique on Fifth Avenue.

"Last three candidates," she smiles.

"Congratulations," I grin back at her.

"Thanks. So what's happened with you and Julie?"

"Nothing, just a few random dates," I reply, staring down at my folds.

"You're lying,"

"Huh? No. I... Nothing could happen. I moved here,"

"But you slept with her though, right?" She asks,

"Huh?" I stare at her. How did she know?

"Did you do the deed? The horizontal tango? The funky monkey? Sheesh, how much do you want me to elucidate?"

"Yeah," I mutter, "How'd you guess?"

"Taylor, we've known each other for what? Seven years? I think I know almost everything about you," She breathes, "So how many has it been now? There was Anne, long-term girlfriend. Then Jess, long-term girlfriend. Stephanie, short-term girlfriend. Joanne, short-term girlfriend. Laila, short-term girlfriend. Jackie, short-term girlfriend. Cassy, date. Amy, date. Have I forgotten anyone?"

"No," I mutter. She's made me feel like such a male-whore.

"So seven. Not bad," she shrugs,

"Meaning?" I ask.

"Nothing. It's pretty good for someone who's always got chicks throwing themselves at him," She smiles. Suddenly I feel so much better. She always knows the right thing to say.

"Eh, it's just the fame,"

"Nah, it's cause you're hot,"

"Shut up," I smirk. My face is feeling hot,

"Oooh, Taylor's blushing," she taunts teasingly. Is that tautology?

"Well you?"

"What about me?"

"How many people have you kissed?"

"One," she states, her voice slightly cracking.

"Me?" I ask, wanting to smile.

"Yeah," she turns her head so I can't see her expression.

"So what? No wild orgies this year. With guys or girls?"

"God no!" she exclaims.

"Oh," There's a moment of silence, "We'll find you someone, don't worry,"

"As soon as possible thanks. Where do I fill in my order?" She drawls.

"What is it?"

"Tall, dark and handsome. Oh, and preferably not a bastard and preferably Italian," she laughs,

"Done," I smile at her.