Chapter Text
Taylor barely left her bed for two days if she could avoid it. She did the SNL anniversary feeling like shit and wondered if everyone could tell, then she crawled back into bed and watched the shifting light crawl across her bedroom wall, hours bleeding into each other. Her phone was a black stone beside her, she had everyone on do not disturb. Karlie seemed to be on a one-woman mission to keep Taylor from total collapse. She left the messages unread. She didn’t want comfort. She wanted to be put under a general anaesthetic. She wanted everyone to leave her alone.
She slept badly, waking up tangled in sheets damp with sweat, the image of Harry in that club replaying on a loop behind her eyes. Each time she blinked, she saw the girl's tan, Harry’s mouth locked onto hers, the way his hand - God, his hand - was so intentional, so familiar, as if it was Taylor herself he was touching. She pressed her palms to her eyes until stars burst behind them. It didn’t help.
On the third morning, she made coffee and poured it down the sink. She hated that her kitchen still smelled faintly of burnt flowers. She hated that everything in her flat was still exactly the same, except for her. She hated that she kept reaching for her phone, half-expecting his name to pop up like a ghost. He’d been blocked, but Taylor almost kept expecting him to show up again somehow.
She was right. By 10am, her email chimed. Subject: Please.
The body was a paragraph of jumbled text, Harry’s voice bleeding through the screen in a way that was both familiar and sickening. He said he was sorry. He said he’d been drunk, it didn’t mean anything, that they were on a break and he thought it wasn’t cheating but that he’d kissed her and immediately knew it felt wrong. It hadn’t gone any further because all he wanted was her. He begged her to talk to him.
Taylor stars at the email, her jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Some twisted part of her wanted to write back in all caps, to tell him exactly what he could do with his explanations. Another part wanted to delete the message and pretend it had never come and thrown another dagger in her side.
Mostly, she wanted to throw her laptop out the window.
She blinks, and then, almost without thinking, her fingers hover and twitch over the keyboard. Her thumb presses the shift key, then the ‘N’ for no, then stops. She stares at the blank reply, the cursor blinking. The words she wants to type catch in her throat. She wants to scream at him, beg him, curse him, but instead, she slams the laptop shut and just stares at it.
Karlie calls again. Taylor let’s it ring, but Karlie was relentless, so she answers on the fourth try. “You’re coming to the Oscar de la Renta show with me, you can’t say no”
Taylor swallows. “Karlie, I just want to sleep”
“It’s been two days babe, I’ve left you to it but you have to leave your apartment for something other than work at some point.”
Taylor presses her forehead to her knee. “I know. I know.”
“Oscar’s team are sending us options directly to your apartment for 11am, I’ll see you then”
Taylor almost protests, but the words dry up before they can leave her mouth. She hangs up first. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to think. She longs for the pounding in her chest to stop. She has a planned late night appearance on Jimmy Kimmel tonight, and happy, bubbly Taylor really needed to emerge. Actually, when she thinks about it, an afternoon with Karlie might be the tonic she needs.
Taylor stays sitting on the floor of her bedroom, knees hugged to her chest. She opened her laptop and read Harry’s email again, it didn’t take long, clearly he wanted to speak to her. Then she slams it shut and slides it under the bed. She would not reply. She would not give him another piece of her. Not anymore.
She presses her cheek to the wall and closes her eyes. She’s cried so much over the past few days that she didn’t know if she had anything left. But the gutted out empty feeling was being replaced by something else, fury again. She didn’t know if she was more angry at him or herself, but she feels something violent surge inside her. Payback, she wants him to pay for what he’d done. She wants him to feel what she’d felt when she saw that picture.
Taylor considers for a second, then opens her work calendar and calls Tree. “Hey, I was thinking of flying to London a night earlier next week. Isn’t there some style awards thing happening?”
“Oh? Let me check the inbox.” Taylor listens to Tree’s nails clacking against the keyboard. “Do you mean the Elle Style Awards?”
“That’s the one. Can you confirm my attendance?”
If Tree’s surprised, she doesn’t let it slip. “Absolutely. I’ll sort it out now.”
Taylor tried to remember why she’d said no in the first place. She’d probably planned to sit in her room and wait for Harry to call. The thought made her cringe now, it made her look like some stupid, weak, naive girl. Pathetic. Not anymore.
She cradles her phone, calls the next person on her list, scratching Meredith under the chin, the cat purring contentedly. “Cara? Hey, it’s me. Are you going to the Elle Awards in London next week? Awesome, me too.”
She ends the call and spins the phone in her palm. She knows what she needs to do, to really get to him. She needs to move on publicly, visibly.
It wouldn’t be anything beyond a little flirtation, just someone whose name would look good next to hers in the tabloids. Someone who would light up the internet for a few hours, start a little wildfire of speculation. Someone Harry would definitely see and be bothered by.
She knew it was childish, that she should hold her head high and give herself time to heal. But she so badly wanted him to see a picture or read a headline, and feel the way she had when she saw that damn picture.
There would be someone at the Elle party, she was sure of it, a model or an up and coming actor. Cara knew everyone and Ellie was going to be there too, between them they’d find the one.
She opened up Instagram and started to scroll. For research purposes, she thought. And she knew it was petty, but god, she wanted him to feel what he’d lost.
***
Claridges has always been Taylor’s favourite hotel in London. Walking through those revolving doors feels like stepping back in time - the kind of place where everything is plush and quiet, the faint scent of polished wood in the air and the tinkling of china as afternoon tea is served in the drawing room. It’s quintessentially old school England, and she loves that.
It’s a relief, honestly, to be somewhere that isn’t her bedroom, surrounded by cats and used-up tissues, a place where she’s not trapped with her own thoughts and the temptation to torture herself by pulling up Harry’s emails and last texts to her, wondering what she missed, searching for the sign that he’d put his tongue in another girl’s mouth. Here, she has no choice but to put on a mask and pretend she isn’t falling apart. She thinks that might be the key to getting through it.
Karlie had done her best to take Taylor’s mind off things in New York the past few days. They’d had such a good time at the fashion show that Taylor almost forgot she’d wanted to stay in bed crying into Olivia’s fur.
Another email from Harry landed as her plane had touched down. It was short, like his last one - desperation wrapped in words that would almost be funny if she hadn’t heard him say out loud that she was the only one for him. But apparently “only” was a loose word for him. He’s in Japan now and she bets he’ll find some distraction there, too.
The check-in is seamless, efficient as always. The hotel staff offer polite smiles and don’t ask questions. It’s the same choreography every time, and it should feel comforting. But the moment the door to her suite closes behind her, Taylor feels her mask start to crack again.
She leans into the bathroom mirror, tilting her head just so. The lighting is designed to be soft, flattering, but she didn’t think anything would work on her today. She’d scrubbed away her makeup on the flight, but managed to leave traces of mascara which have now smudged around her eyes. She thinks she looks exactly how she feels – exhausted and worn out.
Her palms press against the cool marble of the vanity, she stares back at herself. The anger is right there, pulsing just beneath the surface, sharp enough to hold her up, when all she wants to do is collapse on the floor and cry. She hates him. She wants to make him feel what he’s done to her - wants him ruined, like she is. If she’s going to be on display here, in London, then fine. She’ll make sure he sees exactly what he’s thrown away.
***
London is freezing, there’s a wind slicing through the city and Taylor thinks that standing on the red carpet feels like being submerged in an ice bath. Paparazzi bulbs flash relentlessly, the sound of cameras clicking and shouting following her every step. But she doesn’t flinch. She holds her head high, shoulders back, angles her jaw down. The green Julien McDonald dress slinks around her like liquid armour. She’d told Joseph to make her look like she belonged with the fashion crowd tonight – she wanted to be untouchable, glossy, impossible to ignore – and he’d delivered. Poker-straight hair, graphic eyeliner, a nude lip. She’d looked in the mirror before she’d left the suite and thought she looked like someone else, someone less eager to please.
She reaches the end of the carpet and gives one last smile over her shoulder for the cameras before quickening her pace on her stilettos, eager to feel the heat of the foyer around her. Ellie and Cara are waiting for her just inside.
“Taylor!” Ellie calls, arms thrown wide for a hug. “You look so good, this dress is insane!”
Before she can reply, Cara swoops in from behind and wraps her in a squeeze. “Look at you! You’re literally a model tonight, babe. You’re unreal.”
Taylor smiles and blows a kiss backwards. She’s been trying to summon some enthusiasm for the evening ahead since she left the hotel to no avail. She’d thought dressing like someone completely different might do it, but she still felt so exposed, so unanchored in her own skin. She’d hoped that being away from home, having a packed social calendar might help, but she’s so on edge. Here, in Harry’s city. It didn’t matter Harry didn’t really live London anymore, didn’t even have his 21st here, it still felt like she was circling his patch. The unease lingers under her skin, she tries to keep it pushed down and out of sight, but it hums a constant reminder.
By the time they’ve made a couple of circuits around the party, she wants out. She wants to be in bed with the tv remote and her pain. But she needs the shot first, she’d promised herself. A lingering hand on an arm, her leaning in to hear a fascinating story, some light-hearted flirting frozen in a photo. She hates herself for thinking this way, for being so childish, but she wanted him to hurt and otherwise why had she come?
She forcefully pushes Harry to the back of her mind, wiggles her shoulders like she’s in the mood to party, and catches Ellie’s hand. “We’re on the same table!” Ellie says with a glance at her phone and a smile. “Thank fuck, I did not want to make small talk with strangers.”
Ellie looks incredibly pretty tonight, a soft English beauty in blush lace; Cara is in a sculpted vintage black dress with a bold red lip. Taylor smiles to herself, they make quite the mismatched trio.
“Hey, we need to find the bar,” Cara nudges her from behind. “Let’s scope this place out.”
Cara finds the bar first, pushes to the front without a backwards glance, and Ellie yells their orders over the throng. Cara weaves back to them impressively quickly clutching three drinks in her hands.
They move through the crowd, glasses in hand. Cara and Ellie are both in a great mood, stopping every few feet to greet people they know in the throng. They clink glasses and air kiss. Taylor rides their slipstream, letting their energy make the night easier for her. She’s trying everything she can to slip into the rhythm, accepting a drink anytime it’s offered, laughing a little louder than she feels. She annoyed with herself at this point, she’s done this dance a thousand times before, it shouldn’t be this hard. It’s never been this hard.
She feels Cara grabs her waist, pulling her into a conversation with people she doesn’t recognise. A dark haired man makes a joke about London traffic, which isn’t that funny, in fact she thinks he’s regurgitating it from a stand up comics show, which actually was funny, but he’s messed up the punchline. She gives him a laugh anyway, louder than Cara’s polite snigger, and he holds her gaze steadily, his eyes narrowing in approval. It’s the reaction she wants, but not from him. He’s handsome, piercing blue eyes and an expensive suit, but he’s a nobody. She closes it off with a token smile and flips her eyes away, scanning the room. But she feels the shift happen inside her, fuelled by his intrigue, thank you blue eyes. She can do this. Be the most interesting girl in the room and have any man she wants for the evening.
Ellie catches her eye as they skirt around the dance floor, leaning in so only Taylor can hear her over the music. “Tay, I have a hot, tall friend you should meet.” She murmurs with a sly grin.
Taylor arches a brow, lets a practiced laugh bubble up. “Ellie, I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”
She wonders how transparent she is, if her scanning of the room for an eligible bachelor has been noted by her friends. Ellie folds her arms, mischief sparking in her eyes.
“Are you sure? Because he’s really hot,” she presses, “and almost as successful as you.”
Taylor’s interest piques. Successful, hot. This could be easier than she’d thought. She lets her tongue roll thoughtfully, puts on a mock unsure face. Cara and Ellie laugh; Ellie presses her hands together, mock-prayer style. “I promise he’s a great guy. He has a six pack and he’s tall.” She pauses for effect, “and he thinks you’re beautiful.”
Taylor switches her expression into one of reluctant acquiescence. “Oh god, okay. Where is he? Let me see him from a distance first.”
Ellie leans onto her tiptoes and tries to scan the crowd. “I saw him a minute ago… wait, I can text him.”
“No!” Taylor blurts, and Cara cracks up beside her. “Who is he anyway?”
Ellie turns, grinning. “His name is Adam and he’s a DJ.”
“Wait, do you mean Calvin Harris?” Cara interrupts.
“Yeah,” Ellie confirms, taking another swig of her drink, and sending a sly sidelong glance in Taylor’s direction.
“Oh, he’s actually good looking, babe,” Cara says approvingly. “You should 100% meet him.”
Taylor’s heard the name – she’d read something about him in Rolling Stone months back. There was an article about his climb from obscurity to the the highest-earning DJ in the world. Or Europe, maybe. But either way, he was properly famous. She knew at least one of his club anthems and she was sure she’d seen him do a topless GQ cover recently. He was ripped and so far from her usual type. He couldn’t fit the bill more perfectly.
“Oh there he is,” Ellie says suddenly, bumping Taylor’s shoulder, gesturing to the far corner of the room. “He’s the one in the black suit towering over everyone else.”
Taylor smirks. “Okay, don’t wave at him or anything. I’m just gonna… take a look.”
Cara snorts, Ellie turns away, eyes fixed away from Calvin, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Taylor lifts her glass, tries to shield her face a little bit as she looks over at him. Ellie was right, he’s significantly taller than anyone else in the group he’s with. He had to be 6.2 at the very least and wearing a simple black suit. He’s chatting easily with Sam Smith, gesturing with the glass he’s holding. He’s noteworthy globally, sure, but especially in the UK. She was sure he’d bother Harry, the fact he’s older and a solo artist would do it. There was no point looping around the room again, Calvin was the jackpot.
Taylor hesitates for a moment, knows she needs to mask her calculation, make it believable. So she tilts her head coyly. “Would he even want to meet me?” she asks, feigning uncertainty.
Ellie rolls her eyes. “Are you nuts? He already told me he would kill to date you.”
Almost on cue, Calvin’s eyes swivel toward her. Like he feels her watching him. He’s better looking in person than she expected honestly. Taylor jerks her head back round quickly, heat creeping up her neck.
Cara bumps her hip. “Subtle,” she quips cheekily.
Ellie grins. “Let’s go over there.”
Taylor wants to run back to her room, kick off her heels, call off her internal bet. But she doesn’t. She links arms with Ellie and says, in a tone that indicates suffering, “Go on then.”
Ellie clasps her hand and drags her through the crowd. Taylor can feel her heart hammering the whole time; Cara is cackling beside her, joking with strangers as they move through the bodies. Taylor keeps her eyes on the floor, she has the most awful sense that everyone here can see straight through to the awful, calculated, thoughts filling her mind. She lets Ellie, Cara, and the crowd pull her towards him, she can’t think past that.
“Oh hey, bro!” Ellie shouts, bringing them to a halt. Her tone is fond, familiar. She lets go of Taylor’s hand and wraps the tall man in front of them in a big hug. Ellie’s so short he has to reach down, looking a little uncomfortable, while Ellie’s on her tiptoes.
“I want you to meet my friends!” Ellie yells over the bass. “This is Cara.” Cara gives a little wave, a friendly, “Hi!”
And then Ellie twitches her lips and very obviously pulls Calvin’s arm, positioning him right in front of Taylor’s line of vision. “And this is Taylor,” she drags out the syllables of her name, eyes flashing sideways at him, mischievous.
Calvin’s eyes land on hers and his mouth stretches into an easy smile. The genuine warmth catches her off guard and his eyes flick over her appreciatively. Up close, she realises she has to look up at him, even in her stilettos.
Now she’s here, what does she say? Hi. Hello. I love your new track. What’s up? Want to help me make my ex jealous? God, she feels sick.
Calvin makes it easy for her. “Hi, I’m Adam,” he says, his accent soft - Irish or Scottish, she thinks. “Ellie’s been telling me I have to meet you.”
Ellie’s grin is megawatt. Taylor takes a deep breath and tries to match it, then forces herself forward and onto her tiptoes to brush her lips on his cheek. “Well, hi, Adam,” she says, aiming for flirtatious. “Ellie’s been telling me the same thing. I’m Taylor.”
She stumbles slightly on the last words, kicks herself for not being cooler, wittier. But a flush spreads up his neck, at odds with his calm smile. Clearly, it’s fine - she’s having the desired effect. This, she can do: the dizzying highs of connection, leaving an impression, making them want more. It’s the rest… she licks her lips, refocuses on Calvin – Adam - she should remember that.
She lets her lips part in a smile, just enough to show interest and lays a hand on his forearm. Ellie moves away from them with a knowing smile. Adam holds her gaze, his pupils darkening. .
For a split second, she wonders if this is really who she wants to be - the girl who flirts for revenge, who stages scenes to get back at the boy who gutted her. It was so petty and she wanted to be above it. But the Taylor who took the high road, she was walked over, lied to, left behind and she couldn’t choose to be that version of herself anymore.
***
Taylor is buzzing as she leaves the stage, clutching a white figurine tight in her right hand, adrenaline beating out any trace of jet lag. Her first Brit award, she wasn’t letting go of this. She feels Tree grab her arm, whisper “incredible” in her ear, and then her security team sweeps her along.
Ed catches her eye in the crowd, clapping like a proud brother, and she grins at him, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest. A few tables over, Ellie’s cheering too, flashing the biggest smile straight at her. Further back, Adam – she’s getting used to calling him that - was smiling, open, bright, making her feel like the centre of the universe for a split second. Her heart skips a beat. She can’t decide what that means yet.
He’d glued her into conversation last night. Gently deflecting anyone who tried to interrupt, locked his eyes onto hers, kept her glass filled, the compliments flowing. Taylor knew they were the subject of whispers and sideway glances. She’d wondered if it was enough.
He’d told her he’d be at the Universal afterparty, that he hoped he’d see her there. Taylor had swerved giving him her number, an instinctive pullback the moment things seemed to tip from fun into something she’d have to answer for later. Adam seemed genuinely kind, and she hated that she was using him as a pawn in her mess with Harry. The guilt twists sourly in her gut, but she brushes it off. She was here, she’d won, and tonight was about being seen.
She slides back into her seat, she finds are table mates still standing, applauding. Taylor picks up her vodka, leads the table in a cheers to her award, and laughs easily when some spills over the side of her glass, soaking the white tablecloth.
There’s a big part of her that wants to skip the afterparty, go back to the hotel, sleep off the ache for revenge. But she’d told the label bosses she’d go and there’s a party dress hanging backstage waiting for her, so she’s going.
***
The Universal afterparty is a crush of bodies, everyone shouting over the music, the air thick with perfume and sweat. Ellie clings to her hand as they walk in, both of them laughing for the hovering cameras, champagne glasses pressed into their palms before they’d even crossed the threshold. Nick Grimshaw was DJing, Matty Healy is in the shadows over by the wall with a crowd of people Taylor doesn’t recognise. He looks out of it on something, she has no intention of heading over there.
Taylor scans the room. Karlie and Cara were meant to be joining them, but they didn’t appear to have materialised by the bar yet. She runs her eyes across the packed space again. Adam’s there, standing in a small group. He’s ignoring the chatter around him. His eyes are scanning the entrance like he’s searching for someone.
His gaze lands on her and she sees his face light up. He stops for a second and then throws her a grin and wave. Taylor thinks he looks relieved and then she realises he’s been waiting for her. She feels a flicker of something, maybe the heady rush of being wanted or the sinking feeling of knowing the horse had truly bolted.
She gives him a sly, unreadable smile, then deliberately turns away, letting Ellie steer her deeper into the crowd. She didn’t think Ellie had seen him, she’d have steered them both over if she had.
“Drinks, we need other drinks. I’m going to be puking if I have this all night” Ellie declares, necking her glass of bubbles anyway and then ditching the empty glass on a table. Taylor follows suit, welcomes the way it feels running down her throat,’she wants everything to become a little blurrier than it is. Taylor deliberately guides them to the opposite end of the bar from Adam, bending her knees attempting to be less visible in the crowd. Ellie seems oblivious.
Taylor drinks more than she’d planed. She climbs up into the DJ booth with Ellie, vodka’s in hand, and they accost Nick, try on his headphones, pretend to spin a few songs. Nick is acquiescent, she suspects because there’s a photographer snapping away. He only shows a slight flicker of annoyance when Taylor’s energetic bouncing sends a glass flying over his equipment and onto the floor. It’s not awkward at all considering Nick is Harry’s friend, but then her brain slowly computes that he doesn’t know about them. And then she realises she went a chunk of the evening not thinking about him. And suddenly it feels like a door has opened that she can’t close. She imagines him behind her right now, arm looped around her waist, his laughter filtering into her ear. His hips rocking into her. Its such a visceral image it floors her.
She jerks her head up and wrenches the headphones off, handing them off to Nick who gives her a thumbs up. Taylor looks desperately across the room, why is Karlie not here yet? She needs to vent to someone who understands her internal conflict right now.
Instead she sees Adam again. He’s looking up at her from across the room and smiles unsurely when their eyes meet. She’s blanked him all evening and it’s so clear her icy reception has him steering clear. She feels like a bitch. She needs air, or a quiet toilet cubicle.
“I’ll be back!” She whispers to Ellie, who waves her off and Taylor grabs her drink and heads down the hallway to the bathrooms.
They’re individual cubicles, thank god. And no queue, that feels like a minor miracle at such a packed party. She closes the door, puts her back up against it and her bag and glass on the vanity. The bathroom walls are papered black with fuchsia flowers and gold vines, its so claustrophobic in the tight space it’s almost comforting. The toilet is gold. There’s a quip in that somewhere, a lyric waiting, if only she had the energy to find it in herself to care and open her notes app.
Her hands find her black satin clutch and she pulls out her phone. She has no idea how long she’s been standing against the door, just staring at the lock screen. She wonders if her security are fielding annoyed partygoers who are waiting outside. She can’t find it in herself to care about that and that’s how she knows she’s deep in her own selfish wallowing.
She wonders what Harry is doing right now in Japan. Hates that the thought even enters her head, that she feels him no matter where she is. She opens the world clock to torture herself, it’s 8am where he is, he’s probably wrapped up in hotel sheets with some other girl. Or he’s alone, he’s already chucked her out. That would be more like it when it came to Harry. She bites her lip and picks up her glass, chucks back the rest of her vodka tonic. Why had he done this to her?
Before she can stop herself she opens up her photos. Pictures from the last few months. Harry with the owl in Cheshire, the two of them in Karlie’s kitchen beaming, Harry sending a mirror picture of him clad only in a towel after the gym. She thinks she might be going insane, she needs to delete these. She was at one of the biggest parties of the year and she was in a bathroom pining over pictures of her ex.
Ping.
It was the worst timing, or the best. An email. From him. She had no idea what he was doing up, especially the morning after a show. She didn’t want to think about him in his room, writing her an email as the sun rose. Her heart beat a little faster, actually maybe she did, because that meant he’d probably woken up alone. She rubs a hand over her eyes, she’ll worry about the damage to her eye makeup once she actually decides to leave the cubicle.
Taylor stares at the email notification on the screen for a second longer before stepping over and pulling down the lid of the absurd gold toilet seat and taking a seat on it. She clicks on it. She darts her eyes over it quickly, it’s longer than his previous emails. It’s….. she shouldn’t read it. She should block him here as well. But instead, she settles into a hunched position, elbows propped on knees, chin resting in her palm and begins to read.
Taylor,
I know you don’t want to speak to me, but I won’t stop trying.
I’m not writing to ask you to forgive me, I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I was thinking, except that I wasn’t. I regretted it instantly, but it was just a kiss, it didn’t go any further because I don’t want anyone but you.
And I don’t want to do anything but be with you. I hate that I can’t get on a plane and ask you to forgive me in person. To tell you that everyday we’ve been apart has been hell, not being able to tell you I love you has felt so wrong.
So, I love you, I love you, I love you.
I don’t want to be on a break from you. Not now, not ever. I know why we’re doing it, but I’m not going to touch anyone else, I swear, I don’t want to.
I believe that you are meant for me. I believe that we end up together. You are my soulmate.
I’ll be in New York for your Birthday like I promised I would be. Please let that be the very first day of the rest of our lives together. Please.
I’m yours,
H xxxx
There was more text at the bottom. A poem. I carry your heart with me by EE Cummings. He’d typed it out, put in brackets (this is how I feel about you).
Taylor can feel the tears slide down her cheeks. She wanted to slap him around the face and then push him against the wall and kiss him until they were very old. She wanted him.
A version of him she could trust not to break her heart, and that was the problem.
The door shudders. “Tay?” A female voice calls. Taylor freezes.
“Which one is she in?” Karlie’s voice. Taylor shoots up off the toilet seat, looks into the mirror. Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious she’s been crying in the dim light.
“This one” she can hear Naveen respond. Fuck, great.
“We’ve been here ages, has she been in here the whole time?” Cara’s voice rumbles through the hum of the crowd.
“Tay” banging on the door, “are you ok?” Karlie’s voice filters through.
“Are you being sick?” Cara again.
“No, I’m fine! I’m coming!” Taylor scoops her bag up. Looks at her empty glass, considers leaving it there, and then picks it up. She should really clean up her own mess.
She unlocks the door and before she can pull it, Cara and Karlie have pushed it open and are standing there filling the doorway. They look impossibly glamorous, Taylor thinks she did too when she first arrived.
“Holy fuck, how are you this drunk already?” Cara says immediately. Karlie’s eyes are narrowed, she’s focusing on Taylor like she’s trying to work something out.
“I’m not drunk” Taylor says, instantly a bit defensive. “I was just using the bathroom”. But she skitters a bit on one heel and her voice does that weird inflection Austin has always made fun of when she’s had too many.
“Babe” Cara laughs, “you look hammered. It’s ok, but I need to give you the once over with concealer and where’s your lipstick?” She pushes her back into the tight space and Karlie squeezes in too, locking the door behind them once more.
Cara pulls Taylor’s Nars lipstick from her bag and starts to reapply it for her.
“Oh fuck Taylor, you nearly left your phone in here” Karlie says suddenly. She’s holding it up, “and it’s not locked, jesus babe.”
“Oh shit”’ she responds half heartedly, “well, thank god for you guys”
Cara bares her teeth in a sort of oh god kind of way, dabs a bit of concealer under Taylor’s eyes then pauses and gives her a searching look askance. “Have you been crying hun?”’
Taylor looks at her, “no”’
“Are you sure?” Cara brushes a hand over her cheek.
Karlie starts from beside them “what is this?”
Oh shit.
“I thought you blocked him?” She says accusingly, staring at Taylor’s phone.
“Blocked who?”’ Cara says all jovially, nudging her shoulder against Taylors.
“Karlie, hand it over” Taylor demands, stretching her hand out.
“No, are you insane? Why are you reading anything that liar sends you?”
“It’s actually none of your business” she snaps. Karlie recoils. Cara’s head is snapping back and forth like she’s watching a tennis match. The atmosphere in the bathroom is suddenly chilly.
Karlie seems to gather herself, locks her eyes onto Taylors. “You’re my soulmate. I’ll meet you in New York on your Birthday. A love poem” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you actually believe any of this from him?”
Taylor reels.
Cara breaks through, steps in between them. “Girls no, we’re not doing this.” She stops, “but also, who the fuck are you talking about?”
Karlie looks at Taylor steadily, bypasses her outstretched hand, and hands Cara Taylor’s phone.
Taylor’s jaw drops. She can’t believe she would do that to her. Knowing everything that she did.
Cara skims the text quickly, her eyes blow out huge. “Oh wow, that’s-“ she pauses, looks confused “but you’re not with anyone? Who is this letter from? Who is H?”
Taylor fixes her eyes on Karlie, ignoring Cara’s stream of questions. “You had no right to do that, it’s private.”
“We’re your friends! We actually care about you! I’m not going to stand around and watch you swallow his crap again, Taylor he cheated on you!”
Cara gesticulates wildly, “who is this guy?” They both ignore her. Karlie and Taylor are facing each other head on. Taylor is furious, she knows she’s also drunk, but she could go for the kill right now.
“I’m in love with him!” Taylor eventually yells, “and I don’t think I’m ever going to not be in love with him. And, truthfully, I don’t know if I want to make myself stop thinking about him or stop feeling like this, because I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like this about anyone else! But I’m not an idiot, the version of him I want, the one I dream about, I know it doesn’t actually exist. I know I’m deluding myself, I know I shouldn’t have read the damn email, but fuck, you’re supposed to know me better than anyone Karlie, can’t you trust me that I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not where I want to be, but I’m here, doing the right thing at this party, trying to move on, trying to force myself to flirt with someone who might be the safe choice for once, and it’s killing me but I’m doing it. So please try and be a friend to me and cut me some slack.” She knows her voice is overwrought, and she sounds like she’s begging.
Cara gapes. Karlie’s face softens. Taylor can feel wetness on her cheeks.
Karlie opens her mouth, but Taylor gets there first.
“Please block his email for me” tries to keep the wobble out of her voice.
“Are you sure?” Karlie looks unsure enough for the both of them, but her tone is kind.
“Yes, do it. You’re right about everything.”
She can feel more tears leak out and down her cheeks. Cara looks like she’s on the verge of crying too, Taylor wonders if she’s connected any dots, worked out that it’s Harry. But she’s mute.
“This is for the best, babe” Karlie says softly, “I promise you, happiness is out there for you, I know it. The right man will-“
“Karlie, please don’t” she interrupts her, “I don’t want to hear it.”
Karlie looks heartbroken, Taylor wonders how broken she must look for Karlie’s face to be reflecting back at her in that way. She sees Karlie tap away at the screen like she’s watching a play starring someone else.
“Ok, it’s done” Karlie looks at the phone for a second and then slips it back in Taylor’s clutch and hands it over to her.
Taylor closes her eyes. “I’m going to go back out there and dance with Adam” she says slowly, snapping back open her eyes and staring them both down.
Karlie and Cara exchange disbelieving glances.
“You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do, we could go back to the hotel and get in our pyjamas and order pizza” Karlie says, in a coaxing voice.
“No, this is a good idea, and Adam’s nice.” She says slowly, like she’s convincing herself. But she’d had a plan before the email and Karlie was right, this was for the best.
“Babe” Karlie says quickly, “maybe take a beat ok?”
“It’s ok Karlie, I know what I’m doing. Cara, can I have that concealer please?”
Cara looks down, realises she still has it in her hands, before wordlessly handing it over and exchanging another glance with Karlie. Taylor ignores them, starts applying the cream under her eyes and blending it with her finger. She tries to focus on her reflection in the mirror. Better, it would be almost unnoticeable on the dark dance floor.
“Ok!” She says brightly, “let’s go!”
Then she sees the full drink on the vanity. The one Cara had brought in with her. Brown liquid, could be anything, who gave a fuck. She picked it up, downed it, laughed. Wondered why she sounded nothing like herself, but someone harsher, crueler.
Cara looked shocked. Karlie looked concerned. Both of them looked like they were about to stop her.
She pulls open the door before either of them respond. Naveen is waiting by the opposite wall, looking tense. Taylor sends a mega watt smile into the peeved looking queue of people waiting. They’d probably assume they’d been in there snorting lines up from the toilet seat, let them think what they want.
Taylor is several steps ahead. She was on a mission, she had no idea why’d she pulled back earlier. Her first instinct had been the right one, he needed to pay for what he’d done. She hated the way Karlie had looked at her when she’d seen the email, like she was pathetic. Like she’d wander straight back into his arms and Taylor wasn’t who Karlie thought she was. She was going to show them all.
“Harry?” She can hear Cara whisper in a screech. “Sssshhh!” Karlie responds, and catches Cara’s arm pushing her into a tucked away seating area.
Taylor ignores them, she keeps walking. Pretends to ignore the admiring looks from passers by at her blonde bob and tiny black minidress as she swings her hips. She strides purposefully to the dance floor. She can do this, she always has.
***
Ellie screams when she sees her, grabs her hand and pulls her into the dancing circle. The DJ was no longer Nick, it was a nameless face, and they were playing Diplo. Taylor moved her hips to the beat, if Adam was watching, let him.
Karlie and Cara were huddled in the corner whispering in each other ears, throwing her looks. Cara pulls her phone out and starts to tap, Karlie covers her hand over it and tells Cara to stop. Taylor decides it’s none of her business, she takes a shot from tray one of Ellie’s friends is flourishing. What’s in the shot is also none of her business, the liquid burns, and the DJ switches up the track to How Deep is Your Love. Taylor squeals, throws up her hands, “I’m obsessed with this song!”. She deliberately tosses a look over her shoulder, wonders if she can catch his eye. He’s watching from the sidelines, eyes burning into her back. Taylor throws him a wink and beckons him over with a finger. Adam looks uncertainly to either side and behind him, she supposes she can’t blame him. She has been ducking him all evening.
“No, you!” She mouths and laughs, pretends to throw a lasso and drag him in. She sees him chuckle, tap his friend, and start to move towards her.
“Taylor” he says, and he seems nervous. She smiles and proffers her cheek for a kiss. It’s chaste, grounding. Fine, she could take it from here. She can feel Ellie buzzing next to her, maybe she felt her matchmaking plan was picking up speed.
Taylor sees the photographer circling them, she had to make this count.
“Congratulations on your award and your performance. You were incredible,” Adam says, genuinely.
“Thank you,” she replies, and for a second she felt almost shy, could feel her cheeks flush slightly, it could have been whatever was in that shot hitting her. Adam was handsome, successful, seemed genuinely sweet and a gentleman. Why shouldn’t she want someone like that. She can feel something humming away in her core that she was determined to ignore, she leans in closer to him under the pretence of hearing him better, sees his smile crack a little wider. She sees the photographer start to click away, Adam looking into her eyes, oblivious.
“You should have won the song award tonight” she says, lays a hand on his arm. “I was rooting for you.” He moves closer imperceptibly, she feels his heat. She ignores her nerve endings, fighting against her being touched by anyone that isn’t him. The camera flashes.
“Thank you” he says softly.
Taylor frames the photographer’s picture of them in her mind, imagines it on a mobile screen, on a desk top, cropped into a gossip column. Her hand on his arm, matching bright smiles, close enough that nobody would believe they were just good friends.
Close enough that nobody would believe she doesn’t want to be in this room, with this man.
She wants to be in a bed in Japan having messy makeup sex. She wants Harry to push her back onto the headboard and show her exactly how sorry he is. She rages at her mind, forces herself back into the room. Refocuses on Adam’s eyes. They’re blue. She tilts her head, no a grey-blue.
They talk for a few minutes about work and people they have in common. Compare notes on their favourite LA and London haunts. He’s easy to talk to, shyer than she’d expected after their meeting last night. Maybe her blowing him off all night had dented his bravado a bit or maybe he’d had less to drink than her.
Adam excuses himself after a few minutes, tells her he needs to find his manager. She wonders if he’s playing hard to get, trying to be cautious in case she disappears on him again. She picks up her drink, puts her lips around the straw, thinks if he turns around now he’ll like what he sees. Almost on cue, he reaches the edge of the dance floor, and looks back at her. She waggles the straw in her mouth, wiggles her eyebrows at him. He grins, drags his tongue through his lips, and Taylor knows she has him.
Ellie appears next to her instantly, grinning, nudging her. “You two look so good together,” she whispers excitedly. “And he’s so into you. He text me about you last night.”
Taylor smiles, carries on looking straight ahead, watching Adam move through the crowd. She didn’t want to give Ellie too much to chew on, not when she didn’t plan on taking this seriously. But the alcohol was setting perfectly, dulling her edges, her doubts, the heartbreak. Another few drinks and she thought a picture of her draped all over Adam in this club, his hand weaving up her skirt, didn’t seem so unlikely. Besides, maybe she could just let herself drift for a night, let her friends believe she was happy, let Adam believe she was present.
She thought of the advice her grandmother’s had once given her – find a man who is a little bit more in love with you than you are with him. She’d laughed whenever she said it, and Taylor’s Mom had scolded her every time, telling her not to put ideas into her head, that that wasn’t the way to think about love. Taylor hadn’t listened then, had focused back on the television to watch the Disney Princess being saved by the love of her life. That’s what she desired, for someone to be so sure of her that they were willing to hack through overgrown forests to find her, to steer a ship into a sea witch to save her, to knock on every door in the kingdom to check if the glass slipper fitted, because she was the only one for them.
She shakes her head slightly, reminds herself she’s in a club in London. There’s a song playing about someone’s ass crack, the floor is sticky, and the man who was supposed to be the love of her life lied and cheated her. This wasn’t a fairy tale. But maybe for once, she could play a different role in the fairytale. The one who didn’t care as much, the one who didn’t fall first.
Adam returns, quicker than she’d expected him to. He hands her a glass of champagne, she doesn’t bother to tell him she’s not drinking this, that she was trying to stick to vodka, it seems like an unimportant detail. She lets him pull her aside, let’s him touch her waist, let’s him make her feel wanted. It was easy, low-stakes, harmless.
Cara and Karlie are back on the dance floor. Cara’s brow furrows as she takes in Adam’s hand around her waist. “Are you ok?” She mouths. Taylor gives her a small smile and nods, Cara looks unconvinced.
Taylor lets Adam dance her away from their friends to a quieter spot behind the DJ booth. She feels Karlie’s eyes follow her. Adam looks down at her, she sees his adams apple quiver as he asks, “Can I see you again? Maybe somewhere a little quieter?”
Taylor hesitates. She wasn’t over Harry, not even close. She was tired, heartsick, half-hollowed out. But Adam looked so hopeful, and she already felt like she’d used him, wondered what his friends would say when there was a picture of him with her and then she’d disappeared without a trace.
“Tay, can I borrow you a sec?” Karlie is suddenly there, Cara by her side like a shadow.
“Kar, I’m in the middle of something. Can it wait?” she said, and she made a point of running her hand up Adam’s arm. She felt him vibrate a bit under her touch. She relishes the upper hand.
“No” she sounded pissy. “It can’t”.
“Sure”, she takes a sip of champagne, rolls her eyes conspiratorially at Adam who laughs. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Cara grabs her hand, half drags her backwards. Karlie is locked to her other side, her mouth set in a grim line. Taylor feels annoyance start to rise. No matter what she did tonight she felt she was going to be infantilised and lectured. And she was done, actually.
“Actually” she stops, pulls her hand from Cara’s, spins back round to Adam before she has a chance to react. His head whips up quickly, she beams at him. “It’s a yes to the date.”
Adam’s answering grin was all relief. “Great”. He says.
She sends him a wink. “I’ll give you my number when I’m back”
Karlie and Cara appear to be frozen. Struck dumb. So Taylor walks slowly back over to Adam.
She leans up onto her tiptoes, plants a soft kiss on his lips. It feels all wrong.
But it’s worth it for the look on Karlie and Cara’s face.
***
Taylor stretches out towards the coffee in front of her. She can’t quite get at it, not unless she moves forward in her seat and that felt like too much effort. She tells herself she’ll try again in a minute. She hasn’t felt this rough in a long time. A yawn escapes as she catches her reflection in the mirror through blurry eyes. She has no idea what time she made it to bed last night. She vaguely remembers Karlie propping her against the hotel bathroom wall, wiping off her makeup. Taylor had been counting how many face wipes she used in a sing-song voice, and Karlie’s growing annoyance is the only clear memory. She should probably check in, thank Karlie for putting her to bed, and apologise if she was too much.
“Sit up a little straighter for me” Jemma cajoles, “we’re almost there” she was blowing out her hair into a choppy bob for the magazine shoot. Lorrie had already applied her makeup, Taylor thought the nude lip contrasted with her hangover was only making her feel worse, she hoped the lighting would be kind. She wiggles back up the seat, straightening her spine, it felt like a lot of effort. She eyes the coffee again, thinks if she had x-men powers, she’d levitate it into her hand.
“Here” someone scoops the cup off the side and into her hand. “You doing okay? Do I need to ring out for some greasy food?”
It’s Tree. Standing there looking impossibly polished in an a-line black suit. She looked like someone who had had a full nights sleep, Taylor couldn’t relate.
“Why do they only have granola at the buffet?” She whispers, doesn’t want to seem rude in case any of the crew can hear.
“Because that’s what you asked for on your rider” Tree offers with a small apologetic smile
“Did I?” Taylor pulls a face.
Tree nods.
“I’m an idiot”
“Well that was a past you decision. Did you have fun last night?”
Taylor shrugs and takes a large sip of cold coffee. “It was okay.”
Tree raises an eyebrow. Taylor knows how flat she sounds, she can’t seem to muster up any energy.
“Okay” Tree says slowly. “Would you like me to ask someone to get you a bacon roll?”
“Oh god, please. I would do anything” Taylor says, eyes wide in mock desperation. Tree laughs. “Leave it with me, I’ll be back.”
“I can work it off on the treadmill later,” Taylor adds, almost like an afterthought.
Tree pops her head back in the door and Jemma pauses applying the hairspray. Taylor inwardly curses herself, she tries not to say these kinds of things out loud in case anyone thinks she has a problem. Which she doesn’t, she just has to mindful of keeping her weight down.
Tree taps her fingers on the door frame, seems like she wants to say more but stops herself. “I’ll see you in a minute,” she says and leaves.
Less than ten minutes later, Tree sets a bacon roll in front of her and leans against the dressing room ledge, where Lorrie and Jemma have laid out their products in front of huge mirrors. Taylor lets out a dramatic breath. “Oh, thank god.” She breathes into the bread, leans back, and rolls her eyes. “I think I’m returning to human form.”
Tree laughs, picks up her phone. “The after party last night looked fun, I’m sorry I missed it.”
“No you’re not. How was Empire?”
“So good. Almost as good as the caesar salad I ordered and ate in bed.”
“Don’t. I should’ve taken a leaf out of your book.”
“Absolutely not. You’re twenty-five, you can’t eat salad in bed and skip a wild party.”
“But look at me now, Tree.”
“You look great! Cover star ready.”
“Please, Lorrie’s had to airbrush the foundation onto me in layers. I feel like a wall that needs to dry out.”
Tree snorts a bit. “Well, it looked like a good night.” She pauses, a smile playing about her lips. “there’s lots of chatter about you and a certain DJ making the rounds this morning.”
Taylor feels herself freeze, tries to play for time “mmm, really?”
The thing is, she remembers is Karlie putting her to bed, but there’s whole gaps before that missing. She has no idea how she got into the car or when she decided it was time to leave the party. She’d woken up feeling disgusting and with that horrible sense that she’d embarrassed herself but she couldn’t remember how. Something had felt so off, she’d wondered if she’d come home without something important. She’d located her keys, her cards, her phone, but still that horrible pit of anxiety lingered.
It was only when she was pulling on tights and a skirt, and simultaneously messaging Tree to see if she could arrange her car to come round the back, so that she could slip out the staff entrance, that some of last night had flooded back.
She’d kissed Calvin. No, Adam. Fuck, she couldn’t even get his name right. She was sure he’d had to correct her more than once. She winced, it was so thoughtless and rude, which she strived not to be.
Her recollection was fuzzy, but she remembered Karlie and Cara pulling her to the side and asking her if she was ok. They’d told her that she didn’t have to do any of this, she didn’t have anything to prove, they could just leave the party. For some reason, that had incensed the drunk version of her. She’d wrenched her hand from Cara’s, stormed back to where Adam was waiting for her and tapped her number straight in his phone and then placed her hands on his face and…… fuck. She wiped her hand across her mouth like she could undo it. It wasn’t like she could even remember what it had felt like, or if it was enjoyable, surely that was a bad omen…or a good one. Oh fuck.
Tree seems oblivious to Taylor’s mounting inner turmoil, she’s looking at something on her phone. “I’ve fielded a few calls this morning from the UK tabloids this morning. There’s nothing in print, yet, but the rumours are out there, thanks to this picture.” She spins her phone around and hands it to Taylor.
The one she could see in high definition in her head last night as the photographer circled. Adam and her in conversation, her hand on his arm. It was cosy, it was exactly what she’d thought she wanted out there. She felt a tear well up in the corner of her eye, she blinked it away and swiped right automatically. And there it was. A picture centred on a group of people, Matty and another one of his bandmates was in it. She didn’t recognise the rest, but towards the back of the frame…. It was her. And Adam. Kissing. His arms wrapped around her waist. It looked real. She squints, it looked passionate.
There was no way Harry wouldn’t see it. She thinks of his email last night. The raw words he’d poured onto the page, and wants to throw up. She tries to remind herself this was the revenge she’d wanted, but the panic crawls up her spine anyway.
“What are the rumours saying?” She asks, against her better judgement, something to distract her spiralling brain.
“That you were dancing, flirting. That you make a good-looking couple.”
“And we kissed,” Taylor says quietly, waving the phone.
Tree raises an eyebrow. “That too.”
Taylor rolls her eyes. “Any reason I shouldn’t see him again?” she asks, half-joking, half-wanting someone to make the call for her. He’d messaged this morning, suggested lunch at her hotel. She was relieved to tell him she was working all day and couldn’t make it. She hadn’t suggested another date and he hadn’t replied back. She wonders if he likes her enough to keep trying.
Tree frowns. “Sorry?”
“Never mind.”
A pause, then: “Taylor, it’s not my job to tell you who to date. You should do whatever you want and I’ll have your back. And, from what I hear, Calvin’s a nice guy.”
Taylor sighs. “I’m meant to be single Taylor right now.”
Tree laughs. “Why? Anyway, not that it matters, but the online conversation about the two of you is fairly positive. Do with that what you will.”
“Huh? Really?” Taylor bounces slightly in her seat, twirling a strand of hair.
“Hey!” A head pops around the dressing room door. “We’re good to start shooting in five if that works?”
Tree casts an eye over Taylor, “give us 10, we’re just waiting for wardrobe.”
“Great, I’ll update Damon” he snaps down his headset, murmurs in a few words and disappears.
Her phone buzzes. Adam again:
No worries about today, you told me your schedule was busy ; ) …… crazy idea, but what are you doing next Saturday? Come see me headline in Vegas? I might go mad if I don’t see you again x
Taylor closes the message quickly, almost as if he can see her reading it. He clearly wouldn’t be deterred easily, god, what had she said to him last night.
Oh, she kissed him. Right.
Another message notification pops up; Cara
How are you feeling today babe? I’ll call you later, ok xx
Taylor slumps in the chair again, Tree gives her a sympathetic smile and tosses her takeaway wrapping in the trash. “Do you think some electrolytes might help?”
“No, I’ll be okay, but thanks”
The wardrobe team arrives wheeling a rack full of options. They’d already narrowed it down, the white laser-cut dress is first. The team filters out so Taylor can change. She feels so ropey, she prays she won’t barf on set.
They get through four outfits and 120 shots before lunch. Taylor eats tuna salad at the laptop while reviewing the stills with the photographer. Then Lorrie and Jemma start to prep her for the next look. Taylor folds her legs under and opens Twitter, refreshing her timeline.
There’s so many tweets congratulating her on her Brit award and positive comments on her performance. Taylor starts to heart the ones from friends and acquaintances in the industry. It’s only when she’s been scrolling a few minutes that she comes across a tweet from Harry’s Mom. It’s a simple well done on her award, but her words were kind, and Taylor’s stomach tightened. Did Anne not know they were through? Was she just being gracious or did she think Taylor was still her son’s girlfriend? It would be just like Harry to stay in denial and not tell her.
She closes the app fast, trying to shut down all the questions swirling in her brain. She’ll deal with it later. All of it.
***
She has two missed calls from Karlie and five from Cara by the time she slides into the car later. She takes a deep breath and decides to call back Cara first, because she’s been the most insistent.
“Babe” Taylor swears the phone didn’t even ring before Cara’s voice comes through, full of concern. “How are you?”
Taylor wonders what the hell she did last night to get this very un-Cara like worry. Or exactly how much detail Karlie went into on Harry when they were cosseted away gossiping. Enough that they were both shooting her looks while she was dancing with Adam, enough to interrupt her when she was just trying to get on with her evening. The pit of anxiety resurfaces.
“Oh I’m fine, just hungover” she offers, aiming for for breezy. “How’s your day been?”
“It’s been good” Cara says slowly, like she’s picking over her words, trying to decide which to land next. “Just wanted to check in on you, because last night-“
Taylor cuts her off. “Last night I was drunk. And today I’m sober. Honestly, I’m fine.”
“Right….Do you remember what happened last night?” Cara asks, almost solemnly.
“”I remember all of it, I wasn’t that drunk” Taylor says defensively. Dan’s eyes briefly flick up from the front seat and Taylor presses the button to close the privacy divide.
“Do you remember kissing Calvin?” Cara asks, and there’s a disbelieving note in her voice.
“Yes”. Taylor says stiffly, which isn’t a total lie. She remembers that she did it, even if she can’t recall how it felt.
“Okay. And do you remember getting home?” Cara’s voice softens, Taylor hates being on the other end of this kind of call, she’s usually playing Cara’s role. This side of the table feels unfamiliar, uncomfortable.
“Not exactly” she admits, but she has a brief flash of Cara pushing her into the car and Karlie plugging in her seatbelt.
Cara sighs, Taylor jumps in, “look, I’m sorry if I was a mess and it ruined your nights. I love you guys for looking after me.”
“Babe, you were upset, it didn’t ruin our night. We were worried about you.” Cara says, voice low.
“Oh no, I’m fine, I was just drunk” she answers insistently, trying to pull that breezy air back into her voice.
Cara is silent for a second or two. Taylor wonders if the call has dropped. “C?” She says, “you still there?”
Her voice comes through the line, haltingly. “Tay, you were crying in the car on the way back”
Taylor laughs, caught off guard. She’d have remembered that. “About what?”
Cara’s breath hitches and then it comes back to Taylor in a flash. Oh god, she remembers sitting in the backseat feeling like she couldn’t breathe through tears. London streets whizzing by outside and she was hysterical, talking nonsense, shoulders heaving. She couldn’t remember exactly what she was saying, but-
“Never mind” Taylor cuts in quickly. “I remember. And it doesn’t matter. Honestly, I was so drunk.”
“Okay” Cara says, unsure. “I just wanted to check in, make sure you’re okay.
“And I’m great! The Glamour shoot was awesome and now I’m heading to the gym, so-“
“Taylor” Cara interrupts, a serious edge to her voice, a side Taylor rarely hears. “You and Harry. Is it really-“
“Please Cara, don’t” she says, and there’s a lump at the back of her throat suddenly.
“I would never have said anything that night, about the girls and the recording if I’d known, Tay. I feel so bad. I just-“ Cara rushes out the words, like she expects Taylor’s to hang up.
Taylor takes a very deep breath, tries to keep her voice steady. “It’s fine. I’m actually glad you told me. What, I was supposed to be the only idiot that didn’t know?”
“I shouldn’t have said it like I did. I thought we were just gossiping and I built it up more than I should’ve and I never would’ve done that if-“
“It doesn’t matter now, we’re over” she says with a finality.
“I know” Cara says, voice small. “But I’m sorry.”
“No. No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s him, he can’t help himself” her voice sharpens with venom.
There’s another brief silence, and then Cara says, carefully “I don’t think he wants to be that person, Tay. That email he sent-“
“Well, he is that person. He chooses to be that person everyday” Taylor snaps.
“I’ve never seen anything as vulnerable from him as that email, babe. Those words…” Cara trails off.
“Words are easy to write down” Taylor says dismissively as the car pulls to a stop. It’s late; she’ll probably be the only one in the gym if she goes now.
“Babe, I have to go. I’m back at the hotel. But thanks for checking in on me, I promise I’m good.”
“Ok, bye then” Cara says, voice still uncertain.
Taylor tosses her phone back in her bag and swings out of the car, heels tapping on the pavement. There are a few fans waiting outside and her appearance is met with a rousing cheer. She gives them a smile and a enthusiastic wave before stepping into the calm of the lobby.
Dan and Naveen guide her towards the lifts, there’s a pianist playing in the restaurant. It’s a song she recognises, but she can’t place immediately so she slows down her stride, hums the melody under her breath, tries to remember the words.
It comes to her suddenly. It was Summer by Calvin - or Adam, rather. She pauses for a beat and then picks up her pace again and steps into the lift. Naveen selects the penthouse suite and the lift doors close.
Taylor pulls out her phone again, staring at Adam’s last message. Vegas, really? Could she? Should she?
She’d thought that the fact she couldn’t remember their kiss was a bad omen, but maybe she was too fatalistic for her own good and that was where she kept going wrong. But, the pianist randomly playing his song as she’d walked in ….. wasn’t that a sign she should at least text him back? Maybe she could park her gut and just make a smart decision when it came to a man for once.
She taps out of Adam’s message and onto Twitter. The pictures of her and Adam seem to fill her feed. She blinks, Tree was right. It wasn’t negative. It seemed like the general consensus was that they looked right together.
She stares at her phone for a second and then starts typing a response to Adam.
Hey ;) Vegas does sound like a crazy idea, I’m in. Can I bring some friends?
She sends it before she can change her mind. She’s fine, and she’s going to prove it.