LOVESTRUCK - Taylor Swift

ONE

THROUGH THE BLUE EYES OF
SOPHIE BENNETT

THE smell of burnt bacon woke me up. It filled the room with a harsh smoky haze in the air, painting the soft yellow walls of the kitchen with little splatters of grease that would glimmer against the light when the daylight shone through just right. I could barely peel myself off of the couch enough to sit upright, rubbing at my eyes as the thin blanket I had over me began to crumble onto itself in my lap and land in a bunch.

After remembering where I was, I tossed it to the foot of the couch by the black cat, a bombay named Shadow, and walked towards the kitchen. Poppy was up earlier than I'd expected her to be, standing over my oven with a spatula in one hand and her phone in the other. She hadn't gotten dressed yet, wearing these plaid pyjama pants that were so long she was bound to trip over them sooner or later.

"Hey, kid," I yawned and patted the top of her head. Her blonde hair was tangled up from sleep, the sleep I hope she enjoyed in my bed after stealing it because her own wasn't good enough last night.

"Hey, I'm making us breakfast. Why don't you ever have any cereal?" Poppy grumbled, obviously as tired as I was. My head was spinning a little as I recalled the bottle of fancy wine we'd shared the night before when she'd come over, a special occasion type of wine that cost more than a good chunk of her tuition.

"Because Jay and I eat a lot of cereal when we're high," I admitted as I turned the Keurig on and heard it beep. She chuckled ever so slightly at the response and divided the overcooked scrambled eggs onto the white plates. As the mug started to fill with coffee, I reached over and picked one piece of the burnt bacon up and began to eat it.

"Thanks for letting me crash here last night. My mom was being so overbearing, she was like, all over me about school and my grades and everything," Poppy was never one to overachieve but she wasn't on a lower grade level either. My aunt had always been a little overzealous about getting a good education and Poppy had to spend all summer home with her between semesters so far. I understood the need for a break from Anna, albeit even a short one.

"We're going to that thing tonight anyways so it's all good," I poured some cream into my coffee, it had to be nearly white for me to drink the stuff, a heavy spoonful of sugar mixed in.

"That thing? You mean the Taylor Swift concert, yes?" Poppy had been so excited when I told her that I had in fact managed to get us to go. I tried the Ticketmaster thing and that didn't work, so I managed to use my connections and get in contact with her team. We were going to be in the tent, which according to Poppy was where all the celebrities and important people, like Taylor's family and the show openers, hung out.

"I do mean that as long as this mummified bacon doesn't kill me first," it was so burnt it was like eating charcoal disguised as bacon. It was horrifying and until then, I wasn't aware bacon coul taste so foul and poisonous.

"No one ever taught me to cook, it's not my fault."

"Here's your first tip, you don't do it like that."

"Okay, if you're so talented at it, why don't you make something?"

"Do I look like I'm made out of money? You made it, we'll eat it," I scoffed as I stabbed into the eggs, I think that line came directly from my aunt who I was slowly turning into as the years went on. I took one bite and began to gag over the kitchen sink, spitting it right down the drain, "Jesus, Poppy, don't ever pick up a spatula again."

After Poppy continued to torture me while we got ready to go out and get some edible food, we ended up at a bakery a couple blocks down that had the most to die for croissants. We found a table in the corner near the bright windows, she sat on the booth while I had my back to the door.