Stories Based On Taylor Swift Songs

DEBUT: 11. Our Song

11. Our Song (1/9/21)

Peter's pickup truck pulled into the driveway. When I stood at my bedroom window, I could see him waving up at me. He hovered his hand over the horn, and I placed a finger on my lips, telling him to keep quiet. My mother and father had just fallen asleep, and they didn't know I was going out tonight.

I smoothed down the skirt of my dress and carefully walked down the steps. Each floorboard creaked as I went, but the only sound I heard from my parents' bedroom was a light tossing and turning. By the time I reached the bottom of the steps, the house was quiet, and I was able to throw open the screen door and meet Peter in his truck.

"You're the worst, you know that?" I whispered when I noticed he still had his hand over the horn. "My parents will wake up if you do that, and then I won't be able to go out again."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" He asked with a sly grin. He switched the car back on and we drove down the street. I wasn't sure where we were going, but I was sure all the restaurants and places in town were closed by now.

Peter placed one hand on the wheel and the other on the center console. Any driving instructor would've told him to keep both hands on the wheel, but he always put his other hand on the console so I could hold it as he drove.

I ignored his hand for a moment and switched on the radio. A new country song blasted through the speakers, and the singer was crooning about his lovely wife and family. It was a sweet song, but I also preferred the ones I could relate to. There weren't exactly a lot of songs on the radio about a young girl sneaking out of the house to see her boyfriend, who drove recklessly in a pickup truck.

"Hey, Peter?" I asked, looking up at him. "What's our song?"

He stopped and took a glimpse at me. "What do you mean?"

"Our song," I repeated, even though I knew I probably wasn't making much sense. "You know, every couple has a song. We always listen to the radio, and I haven't heard one that's like our relationship."

"What? Sneaking out and driving around?" He asked with a laugh. "There are plenty of songs like that."

I rolled my eyes and let out a huff. "But which one is our song?"

Peter let out a sigh before turning down a thin road and parking the truck. We were right near the river, which was where we met at night if all the venues in town were closed. It was perfectly romantic.

"You're a writer," he told me, and he wasn't wrong. I had been taking songwriting classes in school for two years. "You write our song."

"I can't just write a song like that!" I insisted, climbing out of the truck and hopping down onto the lush green grass. Peter turned off the truck and met me on the other side, wrapping me in a tight embrace and kissing me on the mouth.

"I know you can do it," he whispered, pecking my neck. "You're talented."

I let out a smile before following Peter down towards the edge of the lake. We sat in the grass, kicking our legs until we were splashing water. The stars above us shone like little disco balls. I leaned my head on his shoulder and interlaced my hand with his. At that moment, I forgot all about the fact that I had snuck out of the house, and my parents had no idea where I was. Being with Peter was like that; I was able to forget about worries and just live in the moment. But I was still thinking about the song dilemma, and before I knew it, the wheels in my head were turning as I thought over lyrics and chords.

Peter and I got to talking, and an hour later, he drove me home. He kissed me one last time before I got out of the truck and went inside. It was just past midnight, and my parents were still asleep. By the time they woke up in the morning, they would have no clue I left.

When I was safe in my room, I changed into my pajamas, grabbed a notepad and a pen, and climbed under the covers. With the moonlight peeking in through the windows, I was able to see what I was working on without turning on the lamp.

I started putting words to the page, trying to articulate the feelings I had when I was with Peter. His words earlier about sneaking out and driving around made it into the chorus of the song. By the time the first part of the song was done, I phoned up Peter, hoping and knowing he was still awake.

He sounded groggy, but at least he answered. "What now?"

I scoffed, followed by a chuckle. "I started working on our song."

I could hear him sitting up in bed with piqued interest. "Let me hear some of it."

In the smallest voice I could muster, I sang the first verse and chorus that I had just written. Even though I was safe in my room, there was still a chance my parents could hear me, and they didn't like when I called people, especially Peter, late at night.

When I finished, I tried to assure Peter that the song wasn't finished, but he interrupted. "That was amazing! I told you you could write our song."

"You really like it?" I asked, my face flushed. "I wasn't sure if you would. It's not like anything on the radio..."

"But that's why I like it," he said in a hushed voice. "It's unlike anything I've heard before. And the part about sneaking out and driving around? That was my favorite part."

"Well, it was your idea," I replied, replacing the cap on the pen. I tucked my phone in between my cheek and shoulder before leaning over and placing the notebook and pen on the bedside table. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it," Peter said, adjusting his pillow and blanket on the other end of the line. "You'll have to play it for me when you're done."

We hung up shortly after that, and after returning the phone to the stand on the dresser, I couldn't help but smile. I pulled the covers up to my neck and glanced at the window, where the moonlight was still streaming in. It reminded me of the time Peter climbed into my window so he could kiss me for the first time. He had told me he wanted to on our first date, but hadn't had the guts. So he returned later that night and finally kissed me.

Sitting in bed now, I grabbed my notepad again and wrote down the idea. After all, the song needed a second verse.