[Authors' Note: We wanted to write a chapter in our story that included Harry, and so the following relies more heavily on our imagination — we know this song was not written about Harry (or there's like a 0.001% chance it was...) but we hope you enjoy the chapter anyway! xoxo Liv]

With a week before we had to head to Toronto and the hubbub of the CMT Awards behind us, Caitlin and I were in taking it easy, curled up on a couch at Fido, in Nashville. The exposed brick and the cute little designs in the foam of the lattes made it one of my favourite places to come home to. "You Can't Always Get What You Want" played over the café's sound system.

"I still can't believe you sang with the Rolling Stones. I died a little when you just put your arm around Mick Jagger so casually," said Caitlin. "And then the twirls!"

"Yeah, the twirls came out of rehearsal, when we got a little silly and started pulling ballet moves," I replied.

"Ballet moves with rock royalty. Taylor Swift, you are living the dream."

I smiled. "I'm still trying to convince myself it wasn't a dream. They've been on this huge heroic pedestal for me for so long, and they were just so nice, I just love them even more. They sent me a thank-you note!"

"Well I think some celebratory baked goodies could be in order. What kind of cookie do you think is the most rock and roll?" She turned toward the counter. "Oh, fan alert. My six o'clock."

I glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, three teenage girls were staring at us as they waited to order, whispering and giggling. I waved, which seemed to give them the courage to come over.

"You are Taylor, right?" asked a girl wearing a pair of my special edition Keds.

"You bet," I replied. "And you, you have great taste in shoes. What's your name?"

"Sarah," she said. "And this is Erin and Alexis," she added, motioning to her friends. "Can we ... have a photo with you?"

"Of course!" I caught they eye of my favorite barista. "Hey, Troy, can you come take a picture for these ladies?" I stood up and smoothed out my red and white striped sundress, then leaned in. Troy took the photo, and I gave each girl a hug. "So nice to meet you all. Thanks for coming over to say hi."

Just as the girls away, Sarah turned back and added, "Hey Taylor, I read that Harry is bulking up — that he wants to look less boyish. Think you'd take him back?"

Caitlin snorted over her latte. "He needs to worry about acting like a man, not looking like one," she muttered.

I couldn't help cracking a smile. "All I know about that boy is that he's trouble."

Trouble, trouble . . .

***

I pulled Selena's iPod out of its dock, replacing it with my iPhone. The opening beats of Icona Pop's "I Love It" exploded into the living room. Max Martin had just sent the song over, saying it would be the next big hit, and I was already in love with it. It was all reckless abandon, and that's just what I wanted this night to be.

I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone.
I crashed my car into the bridge. I watched, I let it burn.

I grabbed Jessica and Claire and pulled them onto the makeshift dance floor in Selena's living room.

The house was full of people, and the room was hot, the humid early June air flowing in through the patio doors, but we didn't let it stop us — swinging each other around, jumping, throwing our hands in the air. I swished my ponytail around, my heart beating with music, feeling happy and free.

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