TWENTY-FIVE

"I DON'T WANNA KEEP SECRETS

JUST TO KEEP YOU!"

———

May 8th, 2018

"Mhm...Okay Taylor, close your eyes?"

The singer did as she was told, as well as pinched her mouth shut as her stylist clouded her in a whoosh of hairspray. She waited a second, then blinked and returned her attention to her phone. As the sweet, citrusy scent of the spray filled her senses, she concentrated on the photo of herself on the device in front of her.

She tapped one filter. Then another. Then another and another then went back to one she already tried. She was procrastinating on the Instagram post. Perhaps because she was nervous. She wasn't sure what would happen once she posted it, if anything at all.

Taylor glanced up at her reflection in the vanity. Her stylist was buzzing around, fixing her voluminous curls here and there. It was strange seeing herself in stage makeup again; shimmery powder; rich, dark lipstick; eyelids feeling heavy, unaccustomed to the extra layers of lashes and mascara. She looked down at the ultra-soft white robe concealing the first of what would be several costume changes during the opening show for the tour. The entire day, it seemed like she was constantly reminding herself that this was really happening.

She dropped her eyes to her phone again. The time indicated that Charlie's opening act would be taking place within minutes. In forty-five, she'd be walking out to her first crowd in over two years. She felt better not knowing, but with all of the people flying around her in the past hour, she'd overheard that the crowd was bursting at the seams. True to her fans' nature, they were costumed, screaming her lyrics, and on the lookout for her team members in the hopes of being spotted.

Taylor glanced at the caption she wrote beneath the photo:

Words cannot describe how excited I am for tonight's show in Glendale. Thank you to my team, singers, dancers, producers, stage crew, and, of course, the fans for making this possible. It's (finally) happening. 🐍

📸: @dorothea_jane94

She stared at the last part. She knew there would be people investigating the brunette's account. The question was, how many would connect the dots back to —thus far— their only encounter with the paparazzi. Some would. But —she had to remind herself—many more wouldn't. Her tendency to think of how the world saw her, in general, made her feel gross. She hated how it could consume her like a tsunami heading for a tiny, indefensible island.

And the last thing she wanted was to lose control of her happiness—or another relationship—for another two years.

Taylor looked up into the vanity again, smiling at the timing of Dorothea appearing in the doorway from the corridor. They hadn't seen much of each other that day—or really, the past few days—as they both found themselves consumed in preparing for the next chapter of her career. Though she knew the other woman was exhausted, Dorothea was all smiles as she approached her, wearing her camera and access lanyard around her neck.

"Ready for it?"

Taylor smirked as she met the girl's gaze in the mirror. "Guess so."

"Yeah?" The younger woman tilted her head, draping her hands over her shoulders. "Well, I must say I was anticipating a little more conviction—Mm! Wait—" Dorothea stopped, pressing her nose against the crown of Taylor's head. "Is that mango?"

She laughed as she watched the girl in the mirror. "Not sure how Dr. Marshall would feel about you inhaling hairspray."

"Probably similarly to if she found out that I stopped taking my prenatal pills last week,"

"Thea!"

"Taylor!"

"Stop it!" Taylor exclaimed as the girl laughed above her, "You need to be taking those!"

Dorothea buried her face against her neck. "But they make my mouth taste terrible," she mumbled.

"Define terrible,"

"Like opening up your wallet and swallowing all of the loose change at the bottom."

Taylor grimaced. "Sorry, but you're still taking them."

She felt Dorothea's lips frown against her skin. Taylor turned her head and pecked a kiss on the younger woman's hair, causing her to lift her face. Once again, their eyes met in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," Dorothea whispered.

Taylor smiled. Perhaps it was her nerves, but she felt the thin sting of tears threatening beneath her eyes. She kissed her again, then hummed, "Thank you."

The pair was silent for a few moments as they looked at one another. Slowly, though, Taylor noticed the brunette glancing down at herself. It was subtle, but she watched her fingers pull at the hem of her black t-shirt, stretch it, let go. Her expression fell as her girlfriend repeated the motions.

When she was about to do it again, Taylor reached and took her hands. She could feel the woman's bump beneath her wrists. "You're gorgeous, Babe," she whispered.

Dorothea smiled weakly. "I'm huge."

Right as Taylor opened her mouth to scold her, she looked down at the phone in her lap. "Planning on posting that anytime soon?" She laughed softly.

"Oh—Yeah," Taylor said, as though noticing the device in her hand for the first time. "What do you think? Is it okay?"

"Sure. I'm obviously biased, but it looks great to me." Dorothea laughed again, giving her a confused look.

Taylor was about to say more, but she hesitated. She was being ridiculous. It was just a fucking photo.

"Okay." She laughed faintly, then tapped the icon to post the image, and it felt as though a beehive tore open in her chest. In an effort to distract herself, she looked up at the brunette and forced a smile. "So, where will I be able to see you tonight?" She asked.

"I'm covering B-Stage, plus photos of you going from Main to B,"

"Please be careful," Taylor sighed. "The last thing I need is an excited fan accidentally elbowing my pregnant girlfriend to the ground."

"Relax, I'll be fine," Dorothea giggled. "I'm more worried about you."

"Why?" Taylor gave her a funny look.

The brunette shrugged, running the ends of Taylor's curls through her fingers. "I've never seen you this stressed," she said, "but I also can't even fathom what you're about to do."

"You get used to it," Taylor chuckled. "But I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

She looked up at the younger woman, smiling as she met the pair of eyes that had become one of her most familiar sights. Gold and brown and green, like the meadow she was always desperate to reach after escaping the dark forest of her mind. She sensed the worry beneath her eyes, yet she was hesitant to reassure her. The truth was, she, too, couldn't fathom what she was about to do, nor would she ever be able to control the world's perception of her.

Or Dorothea.

And in Taylor's opinion, that was much worse.

———

Even though she'd heard it over a dozen times already, the explosion of the bass as Taylor rose to the stage sent Dorothea's heart out of orbit.

Just as she rehearsed, Dorothea stepped toward the tripod and pressed her eye against the viewfinder of the camera. She stood on an elevated platform, where below there was an undulating, wild sea. The light-up bracelets on the crowds' wrists blinked within the flashing strobes from the stage, as though they were traveling through a mesmerizing galaxy at warp speed. Their screams penetrated her ear plugs almost effortlessly, and when Taylor appeared on the magnanimous screen dominating the backdrop of the stage, it only grew louder.

Dorothea pressed the shutter button several times. She twisted the lens ever-so-slightly, then pressed it a few times more. She quickly fell into a rhythm of snapping photos during Taylor's first performance. By now she had the show memorized—all thanks to back-to-back rehearsals for two weeks straight—and yet as cliche as it sounded, it truly did feel like she was watching it for the first time. She couldn't describe it, but there was something about the crowd that transformed Taylor's performance. Her mannerisms, expressions, and body language as she strutted around the stage only seemed to be enhanced by it all. It was captivatingly mad.

Her heart raced. For a moment, Dorothea felt as if she took a step outside of her body. The version of herself five months prior would have found her current position incomprehensible. Behind that overwhelming realization, she suddenly felt uneasy. How bizarre, that it was only the happiest moments that invited the serpent in her mind to come out of the depths and convince her that she was an imposter. Apparently, the shadows around her only became visible in the midst of a pastel dream.

Dorothea forced herself to concentrate on Taylor. She grounded herself with pointing out details to herself of the woman commanding the stage. The glimmer of the sequins on her costume; her hips swaying left, right, right, and left again; the way she closed her eyes and formed a perfect circle with her lips to belt out a high note. She focused on pressing the shutter button with her thumb again. And again. And again.

"Well hello Glendale, and welcome to the very first show of the Reputation Stadium Tour!"

The sound of Taylor's voice swallowed up the stadium. Dorothea had barely registered the ending of the first song and transition to the blonde's opening speech. She got lost for a few seconds, as her girlfriend's voice filled every inch of her senses, then suddenly remembered that being the moment she had to swap the lens for close-up shots.

While Dorothea fiddled with the camera parts, she surveyed the crowd ahead of her. They all appeared to be watching Taylor with awe; enthralled by the talented woman just as much as she was. It was impossible for Dorothea to understand how someone who drew such love and gave even more of it could have so many people searching for the opportunity to spark her downfall.

After clicking the new lens into place, Dorothea snapped a few photos of Taylor as she continued to speak. Though her focus was primarily in the viewfinder, there was some sort of movement—A bug? A shift in the breeze?— that caused her to glance over her left shoulder. For whatever reason, she suddenly found herself staring at the crowd. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it felt as though several pairs of eyes were trained on her.

One of them—the tall skinny guy in the Rep t-shirt and light-up necklace?—suddenly lifted his arm and Dorothea tore her gaze away. He was pointing at her. Definitely her, because Taylor was on stage in the opposite direction and the crowd in the stands beyond was basically indistinguishable. She glanced at the camera in front of her, then back towards the pointing college-aged kid who was no longer pointing, but still turned in her direction. A few seconds passed, and she suddenly felt ridiculous for her paranoia. Why had she become so focused on that guy?

But another person pointed her way. This time it was a blonde girl about her height, wearing fishnet tights and a camouflage jacket similar to the one Taylor had worn for promotional photos. Dorothea felt her pulse begin to drum in an odd way, right as the crowd grew loud and the instrumental for Taylor's next performance began.

Seconds before the strobe lights flashed, she caught the lights of at least a dozen tiny smartphone cameras, none of which were pointed at the singer.