- this is book three of my wisteria hearts series! If you haven't read the other two books, I suggest you check them out so you have a connection to the characters, and know what's been happening! -
His hands were stained red. He'd been sitting here at the piano for four hours and twenty six minutes. He knew, because of the clock that sat on the wall. His Mum had brought it for him when he'd first moved to New York, and as ugly as it was, he didn't want to throw it away. The soft little ticks that usually soothed him, made him feel tense. This was his escape. Playing until his fingers bled was how he got away from the feelings and thoughts in his head. God knows he needed that relief.
Joe felt as if he might be able to drown out the thoughts in his head if he were to play the piano loud enough. Sometimes it worked, but other times the thoughts would just get louder and louder until he felt like he might explode. He'd always gone to the piano when he felt like this. It used to be able to provide him with comfort, and it really did used to help. But now, no matter how hard or loud he played, those thoughts wouldn't leave.
He'd come to New York hoping that it would make them all go away. He'd hoped that a change of scenery would make it better, that the further away he got from it, the better he'd feel. He'd always loved the idea of New York, loved the concept of the billboards, of Times Square and that atmosphere that could only be found at the centre of it all.
Joe finally got up from the piano - knowing that if he wanted his fingers to look normal before his appearance at the Met Gala tonight, then he'd have to stop. He couldn't keep playing all day - well, he could, but that wouldn't get him anywhere.
It always came over him in waves, this feeling of darkness. He'd first felt it in high school, felt it when he was told by his music teacher that he kept fucking up the keys, that it was hopeless. That he was hopeless. He'd felt it deep within his soul right then and there, felt those words slice him right open. Because he'd used music as an escape from it all throughout his life - he'd practiced and practiced and he had been told that he was good on the piano. But hearing his music teacher say that to him - that he was hopeless had crushed him. He already felt like that himself, and couldn't agree more, but it hurts differently when someone physically tells you it. Perhaps that was why he'd play until his fingers were raw. Perhaps that's what started it all in the first place.
Joe looked at himself in the mirror while he got ready, utterly disgusted by what he saw. Sometimes he just wanted to punch a hole right through it. He hated himself. There was not a single pretty way to say it. He'd hated the person he was back in London, but he hated the person he was in New York even more. He couldn't put his finger on why exactly, because he didn't really feel liked he'd changed at all. He turned away from the mirror and went to have a shower. He wasn't looking forward to tonight. Most events like this that he'd been to dragged on and on, and he always ended up feeling even worse about himself. Because he knew that he'd be there with all of these other handsome and attractive people, and he'd look like a fish out of water. Other people were just so much better at this sort of life than he was.
Joe wished that he could just... take it all back. Sometimes he wished that he had chosen an easier career - one that wasn't so cut throat and competitive. He wasn't a competitive person in the way that all of these other people were.
The good thing about being an actor? He knew exactly how to fake a smile.
"The dress has arrived!" Taylor heard her stylist call out as she sat in bed with Meredith in her lap.
Did she want to go to the Met Gala tonight? No. Did she want to have those cameras flashing in her eyes, showing off every single flaw? She didn't.
She wasn't even sure why she'd bleached her hair in the first place, and now she was stuck with it.
She got out of bed, getting ready to have her hair and makeup done. Mornings of events like these were always hectic - sometimes she could spend up to five hours getting ready for an event that she was only going to be at for a couple of hours.
She'd told herself that she wasn't going to stay the whole time, because events like this made her feel so anxious. She'd never admit that to anyone, but she hated standing in front of those blinding lights as they yelled at her. Who would enjoy standing there as they screamed for you to look at them?
The dress was... interesting. She wasn't even sure she liked it - but it had been picked out by her stylist. It was Louis Vuitton, and she knew that it would shine beautifully in the lights of all their cameras, but it just didn't really feel like her. Although, she didn't necessarily know who 'her' was anymore. She'd really fallen from grace after 1989, that era had ripped her to pieces. There had just been continual drama, continual reasons why she wanted to fade into the background of it all. She had her friends, she had Karlie and Selena, she had Abigail... But that era had taken every piece of the country singer she had been, every little sliver of the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve and thrown it from a cliff. Not even stable friendships were certain in her life. But she had her core group of friends, she had Blake, who would always be there for her. She had Karlie, who she'd call up when she needed someone to listen to her thoughts. She had Selena, to give her support when it all got too much. She had Abigail, who always felt like home. She had people she could talk to, but at that point in time, the drama was just pouring in too fast, and she hadn't been able to cope. She'd shut off from all her friends, the only person she kept contact with was her Mom.
She was just so tired of all the constant drama she seemed to stumble upon. She'd made such a big effort last year to shut down everything that happened with Kanye, to ensure that she was going into the year with that still hanging over her head. It was honestly exhausting just trying to keep up with it all. Because she thought that they'd moved past the feud that the media loved to bring up every five minutes. She'd been the bigger person - she had moved on. But what did Kanye do less than five months after her forgiveness? Release that fucking song with those disgusting the lyrics that she'd never given permission for him to use. Not that anyone had believed her when she'd spoken against his accusations. It had been a tiring year, filled with tiring drama that she had been so sick of. Her life just seemed to always be so loud, and she didn't know how she'd ever find a way to turn down the volume.
She was trying so hard to be that fairytale princess that her fans expected her to be, but that was hard when everyone insisted on painting her as the villain in the story. She had written and memorised that entire Grammy speech in the hopes of redeeming herself, in the hopes that people would see just how hard she was trying. She was trying so fucking hard to be who everyone wanted her to be. And it seemed like a fucking impossible task.
She'd always grown up, she thought as she was having her hair and make up done, believing that she had to be the person everyone else wanted her to be. That she always had to be good enough for them, for everyone else. She'd believed that she would find her self worth amongst everyone else, and she couldn't let go of that belief.
Taylor sighed as she put on her shoes, which was a huge effort, and she didn't know how she was going to walk in them for the entire night.
She could do this. She just had to go out there and put on an act. Act as if all the things that had happened in the last couple of years weren't taking their toll on her. Act as if she was strong, as if what they were saying didn't hurt her. As if all of their headlines, their comments just ricocheted off of her. But they didn't - as much as she had tried to ignore them, she just couldn't. She had always absorbed every little scrap they gave her. That's probably why she was moments away from falling into the abyss of an eating disorder. She didn't know that yet, she didn't realise that what she was doing, eating barely anything and then exercising too much... that they were signs of an eating disorder. She wouldn't know that for a long time. She hadn't realised that she wasn't supposed to feel like she was going to pass out during her walks down the red carpet.
The car ride was quiet, she was too nervous to speak. She didn't want to hear all of their comments - their rude remarks about her dress, commanding her to smile, to look left, right, up here and down here. Sometimes she could put up with it. Most of the time it felt like she was being scrutinised under a microscope, people poking and prodding her with every inch of room she gave them. The only thing she could do was to stand there and look pretty, to look as if she had bones made of steel, and get to the first glass of wine she could find.
Joe was so relieved that he wasn't a big celebrity. They took like, thirty seconds worth of photos with him and then he was finished. He couldn't imagine being such a big celebrity that he had to stand there for any large length of time. It really wasn't a pleasant experience, and he really wished that a lot of them knew how rude they sounded. Honestly, it was like he was the main attraction at a zoo. Walking down a red carpet was something that he never thought he would get to do, something that he'd only ever seen in his dreams. But here he was, smiling for the cameras, smiling as if he was the most attractive person there - which he knew he wasn't.
He was led inside, where he was excited to get to see this year's exhibition. He'd never thought that he would be able to attend something like this. Something so big - but he really felt like he didn't fit in with this crowd. That was a big part of the reason why he'd been feeling so down lately. He didn't really feel like he fit in anywhere. He didn't fit in back home, and he thought he might fit in better in New York, but he was wrong. He just didn't fit in anywhere. He needed somewhere that was in between the hustle and bustle of New York City, but not so calm he could hear a pin drop in London. It was hard to find that middle balance in life, and Joe began to wonder if he'd ever find it.
The exhibit was interesting, and then they were all led into a room for the cocktail party. He wished that he knew someone here, wished that he had someone to stand with or talk to. He wasn't usually the sort to just walk up and talk to people... the thought of doing that made him so stressed. So he stood in the corner, a glass of wine in hand. He watched as everyone around him seemed to be laughing, finding things to talk about with one another and wondered why he'd actually decided to come. There were just so many people, and none of them were like him. They were the kind of people that thrived in situations like this, not people that felt so out of place and alone.
Joe took a sip of his wine, which seemed to help him feel a little better. That was when he saw her. The woman who had inspired him to move to New York in the first place. The woman who had spoken about the importance of dreams, about how New York was the place they all came true. He still hung onto those words, still believed that one day, in New York, he'd find who he was meant to be, he'd find all his dreams. There were so many other people in the room, but he only wanted to look at her. Taylor Swift. Her bleached hair, her black lipstick and her silver dress that dazzled in the light. She looked so beautiful - but he wondered if anyone else could see the way she kept her eyes to the ground as she walked, the way her smile didn't quite seem real. A bit like his, he realised. She was the only person in the room that he wanted to look at. As she went over to her friends, as she greeted them with that smile that he knew he'd never be able to forget. That smile would be on his mind forever. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes as she walked over to get a glass of wine, before she stood alone, too.
A small, distant part of him wanted to have the courage to go up to her, to tell her how beautiful she looked, to ask her if she was feeling as out of place as she was. He wanted to go over to her, and really get to know her. That smile, the way her hands were trembling, ever so slightly. He'd learnt to watch for those things, as they often happened to him. His hands often trembled. He quickly looked away when she looked over in his direction, taking another mouthful of wine.
He was going to do it, he'd decided. He was going to go up to her and ask her to dance. To ask her if she was having a nice time. If she knew just how she dazzled the room. He finished off the last mouthful of wine, setting the glass down on the table. He was going to do it. It seemed as if there was a magnetic force pulling him in.
He took two steps forward, when he saw someone else greet her, kiss her hand. Heard as he introduced himself to her, and felt that electricity leave him as fast as it had arrived.
"I'm Adam," the person said. Joe cursed in his head. He should have been faster, should have just gone up to her straight away instead of waiting. Because now he'd missed his chance and he probably wasn't going to get another one. Fuck, he kept repeating over and over in his head. Why hadn't he just gone over to her earlier? He'd fucked up. All he seemed to do was fuck up. He went and grabbed another glass of wine, as he watched Taylor smile.
"I'm Taylor," she grinned at Mr Adam Wiles. "It's nice to meet you," he heard her smile, and he wished that she had been saying that to him. That he'd been the one to kiss her hand as introduce himself. The rest of the night, he faded into the background as he watched the two of them dancing together. Heard her laugh, the way her accent changed from American to British, and wished that it was him who was making her smile like that.