SEVEN

"Oh...

Goddamn

My pain fits in the palm

of your freezing hand..."

———

Taylor cursed in her thoughts at how drunk she was.

By some strange twist in the universe, she was now sitting on a cold concrete curb in the alley next to her favorite dive bar. And sitting next to her, visibly very upset, was the girl she thought she'd never hear from again.

Drunk Taylor hadn't thought twice about following Dorothea to the exit. And Drunk Taylor also hadn't hesitated to join the brunette, who was sitting next to a pile of cardboard with her face in her hands.

And now, Sober Taylor was screaming at her somewhere deep inside her conscience to get herself together. Her vision was soft and blurry at the edges, and she was pretty sure she was swaying a little bit, too. She wondered if Dorothea could tell how wasted she was, or if she even cared.

A sudden sob shook the other girl's frame, causing Taylor to jump as well as panic. Oh god—What did she get herself into by following her outside? Did this poor girl even want someone to be with her? Did she want her? Drunk Taylor shifted to stand up, but Sober Taylor shouted in her thoughts to keep her ass on the sidewalk. How terriblly cruel would it be for her to have followed Dorothea outside, only to get up and leave her crying and alone?

She thought she was past giving a shit of what other people thought of her. But clearly she wasn't, otherwise she would have said something by now. Get your shit together!

Sober Taylor was clearly on a power trip.

Taylor rested her soft gaze on the other girl. "I saw you as you were leaving," she suddenly mentioned, "but you were alone. Did you come here by yourself?"

Dorothea took a shaky breath, nodding. "Yeah, I had to talk to the bartender—which I'm sure you heard," she explained, laughing faintly under her breath. She then looked up at her, eyes glittering with tears. "I'm sorry," she suddenly sputtered, "you shouldn't have had to see that. I wasn't expecting you—"

To be here. Taylor finished in her thoughts. She could have said the same thing about Dorothea. "Don't worry about it," she assured, then asked, "did something happen, though? Or do you know him from somewhere?"

Dorothea let out a stiff laugh, wiping the corners of her eyes with her thumbs. "Yeah, I know him. Unfortunately. He's my ex's former roommate—or maybe current. I have no idea," she said. She could sense Taylor processing the information, then added, "I came here because I needed to ask him something—about my ex. I've been trying to reach him, but—no, I mean, not in that way—"

"For something unrelated to your relationship," Taylor offered.

"Yes," Dorothea answered. But it was too quick, and the firmness of her tone didn't match the distant look in her eyes. She suddenly shook her head, as though to clear it. "But he wasn't being helpful, which really sucked. But it is what it is." She sighed. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean for you to feel like you had to follow me out here—"

Taylor gave a gentle laugh. "You didn't force me to come out here. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Dorothea lifted her gaze to meet hers, and in the depths of the golden bronze flecks that swirled around the girl's pupils, Taylor once again detected a deep root of sadness. The same exact way she had that night at The Pearl. "Thanks," Dorothea said.

Taylor's red lips twisted into a warm —slightly-drunk— smile, and her heart fluttered as the brunette returned the expression. It was at that moment that Taylor realized she hadn't ever truly seen Dorothea smile. The girl smiled, of course, as she served them at the restaurant; as she popped their bottle of Dom and toasted to Taylor's career; as she sheepishly, but gratefully accepted the cash tip. But the small, hesitant smile that flashed across Dorothea's face just now sent a current through Taylor's limbs. Despite how cold she should've been without a jacket, sitting on the curb outside on a winter night, Taylor felt the warmest she had in months.

A few quiet moments passed as the two sat side-by-side. The fresh air had cleared the fog on Taylor's intoxicated mind, and now she struggled to think of what else to say. If it was normal, she would have asked Dorothea to tell her everything. Start from the very beginning, the night she encountered her in the restroom, all the way up until the moment they were currently in. If it went beyond that timeframe, she'd listen anyway. She didn't want to be spared a single detail. But they were acquaintances. Friendly— but acquaintances. And that wasn't normal for that sort of relationship.

But she wished it was.

Dorothea was tracing her finger against the rough edge of the curb when she suddenly looked up at her. "Oh gosh, I just remembered that I never answered your message from last week! I'm sorry—"

Taylor laughed. "Please, don't apologize. I was just making conversation," she explained, "and yes, I'm very aware of how batshit that sounds. You know, given—" she stopped herself, suddenly feeling her cheeks grow hot. She then laughed again. "Well, as hard as it is to believe, I still get really excited when people enjoy what I make."

"As you should," Dorothea agreed firmly.

Taylor smiled. "Well, I'd still love an answer. If it isn't too much to ask—"

"Oh! No, I mean—Yeah, I am a photographer," Dorothea said, then quickly added, "but not, like, professionally. Not yet, anyway. I have an Associate's degree for it, though."

Taylor gasped. "That's awesome!"

"Thanks." She laughed. "Most people just go straight to asking me why I couldn't make it through two more years to get a Bachelor's like everyone else."

"Well, fuck 'em."

Dorothea suddenly burst with laughter, and Taylor's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. It was sharp, but echoed down the alley in a lovely, melodious sound. It was like cotton candy melting on her tongue; like the breeze as she plunged into a swimming pool on the hottest summer day. And when Dorothea, shocked by her own laughter, had instantly covered her mouth with her hand, Drunk Taylor had to fight every last bit of herself not to pull it off and replace it with her lips.

And Sober Taylor could only think that Dorothea Jane Madison was already ruining her.

———

Dorothea tried to get her laughter under control, then looked at the singer. She still hadn't processed everything that led her to that moment, which only made all of it feel less real.

She was pregnant. And she was also friendly —?— with Taylor Swift. Those two things didn't seem like they belonged together. Oil and water. Fire and Ice. Dorothea felt like the After had actually been split in its own two pieces. Carrying a child inside of her and sharing a growing number of small moments with a celebrity felt like they could only exist in their own separate universes. And yet, both things were happening in the exact same place.

Had Dorothea slowed down when she first got to Bar None, would she have seen Taylor? If she had, would she have had the same outcome with facing Tyler? Probably, but she wanted to think she wouldn't have screamed at him. But then again, if she hadn't blown up at her ex's roommate, she wouldn't have stormed out, and Taylor most likely wouldn't have ever even known she was there, too.

Everything that unfolded in the past hour —well, month, really— only continued to prove to Dorothea how little control she truly had.

Dorothea glanced at Taylor, who was pulling her phone out of her purse. "Well, I'm sure you're very busy with work, and so many other things I'm not aware of," the blonde began, "but if you have a portfolio, or some work samples of your photography, I'd love to see it."

"Really?—" Dorothea clamped her mouth shut. She was stunned, yet confused. But she nodded quickly. "Sure! That would be—amazing. I mean, when would you have the time—"

"Whenever is best for you. I'll be going out to LA briefly for a couple of weeks next month, then Nashville around Easter. But for the most part I'll be here until the middle of April,"

"Okay." Dorothea nodded, absorbing the information. When she met the singer's eyes, she couldn't help but smile. "I'd love that," she agreed.

"Awesome!" Taylor gave a small squeal, and even though Dorothea had sensed that she may have been a bit drunk, she wanted to think it was genuine excitement.

"Okay," Taylor continued, dropping her head to her phone and quickly tapping against the screen. She then held the bi-camera smartphone out to her. "Go ahead and send yourself a text. Whenever you think is a good day, just let me know. We'll figure something out."

This piece of her After, once again, felt completely fake. Dorothea carefully took the singer's phone—which felt like a brick, for some reason— and typed a message to herself and sent it. After handing the device back, her phone chimed into the silence seconds later, and she caught a mesmerizing smile as it stretched across Taylor's face. The blonde then stood up, and stretched her hand out towards her.

Dorothea placed her hand in the singer's —which was very cold, just like her own— and rose to her feet. When she let go, her body suddenly felt electrified. "Thanks again, for coming out here," she said.

Taylor nodded, then suddenly a concerned look flashed into her eyes. "Are you going home?" She asked, "Do you need me to call you a cab? I'm not sure where you're heading—"

"Oh, no. I'm just a few blocks that way," Dorothea assured, waving arbitrarily behind her. "Thank you, though."

They reached the moment where an infinite number of things could have happened. Goodbyes, in Dorothea's opinion, were the most complicated of all human exchanges. Would that only be their first? Or would it be their very last? The truth was, every goodbye felt final. It was impossible to know.

All of a sudden, Taylor carefully stepped foward, stretching her arms open, and Dorothea smiled and opened her own. Despite how cold the blonde's hands were, the embrace sent a wildfire of warmth across Dorothea's limbs. It was such a simple form of human contact, yet she realized that she couldn't even recall the last hug she gave or received. At the moment, she swore she could feel the tiny grain of rice leap in her abdomen.

When Taylor stepped back, she kept a hand on her arm. "You can text me for whatever reason," she said, her tone sincere, "it doesn't just have to be about really fucking awesome photos."

Dorothea nodded appreciatively. And with that, she exchanged one last look with the singer, whose eyes left her feeling exhilarated, yet abandoned at sea.