Invisible string

Chapter 2: the interview

It was those thoughts running through her head that tugged a sly grin at her lips.

“Now that you mention it, I’ve always admired the way Taylor writes,” she said, tilting her head. “The way every song feels like a story you’re living, like you’re peeking into someone else’s diary without being creepy… too creepy, anyway.” She laughed softly at her own joke. “Makes me think… maybe one day I could collab. You know, like dinner collabs. Not the studio kind. Totally harmless, very hypothetical.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Dinner collabs. Very specific.”

Hazel shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Art comes in many forms, Jason. You don’t need to write a song to have a meaningful collab. Sometimes it’s just sharing a meal, trading stories, seeing if the creative energy flows. Very sophisticated. Very subtle.”

She caught Nick’s raised eyebrows and smirked. “I mean, obviously, I’m not expecting an email tomorrow. Or any emails, really. It’s more like… planting a seed in the universe. Hypothetical seeds. Very safe seeds. I don’t want to be that person who’s, you know, annoying. I’m a professional fan.”

Jason snorted quietly, shaking his head. “Professional fan. That’s a title I didn’t expect on a resume.”

Hazel waved him off, smirking. “Hey, some of the best work is done in the margins. And let’s be honest… dinner collabs are probably more fun anyway. You get dessert and good conversation. Can’t beat that with a pen and paper—or a microphone.”

She paused, giving the idea one last dramatic glance toward the album. “So, yes… dinner collab. Hypothetical, harmless, tasteful, and—if the universe is listening—maybe slightly intriguing. That’s all. Very professional. Totally reasonable.”

Jason finally chuckled. “Reasonable. Right. That’s one way to pitch it.”

Hazel grinned, letting herself enjoy the moment of absurdity. She knew full well Taylor Swift would never see this interview—but pretending there was a tiny chance made it fun. Sometimes subtlety was all a fan—and a musician—needed.

Once the interview was done and they got back on the bus, Jason shook her by the shoulders.

“Did you just shoot your shot at Taylor Swift?!”

“Jason, relax. It was all in fun. Just playing—and we both know she would never see it.”

Jason was about to respond when Chris entered.

“Didn’t I say to just talk about your work? Why on earth did you ask Taylor Swift out to dinner on a national program?”

“I did not ask her to dinner… well, I may have, but it’s not a big deal. Why is everybody taking it so seriously? Jesus.”

“Hazel, I told you not to go off-topic. You’ve been invited to the MTV Awards next month in LA, and now everybody is probably going to ask you about that.”

Both Jason and Hazel looked at Chris with wide eyes.

“We have been what?!”

“We are going where?!”
——————————————————

Taylor Swift was having trouble sleeping.

Shocking, she knows—it was already 3 a.m. in Seattle. She had arrived early, but in two days she was going to have a show, and she felt restless.

The change in time zones always left her struggling to adjust. She went to the gym to try and shake it off, blasting music through her headphones—anything to keep her mind from wandering.