You jolt awake as the sound of your phone alarm ebbs through the air. You groan, rolling across to your bedside table, outstretching your arm before fumbling to turn off the painful noise. You read the numbers on the small screen through out of focus, sleepy eyes. 5.30 am. The last thing you want is to leave the warmth of your nest of blankets, but you know you need to make a good impression on the first day of your new job, and you want more than enough time to get from New Cross to Covent Garden.
Sighing, you stumble out of bed and make your way to the bathroom.
After showering and dressing, you grab your bag, checking at least 3 times you have the address written down, before sweeping out of your apartment.
Following a few confused bus journeys and some time queuing for a tube ticket (having just moved, you're still getting the hang of travelling round London), you finally find yourself sat on the Piccadilly Line. Normally, the soft rocking of the train and dull lights of the carriage would lull you to sleep at such an hour, but you soon feel your tiredness drain away as nervous adrenaline begins to pump though your system. This is your first proper job in London after graduating from college.
You get so caught up in your own anxious thoughts that you barely even notice the announcement of Charing Cross through metallic speakers. It's only when you see most of your carriage filing out of the doors that you realise it's time to go. You hop out of the train and head up the nearest escalator.
It's still barely daylight when you reach outside again, though the streets are already filling up with traffic and tourists. Luckily, you're pretty familiar with the area, with it being one of the best shopping areas in London. You nervously rehearse your opening greetings as you make your way to the store, speeding up your pace as you feel droplets of rain beginning to splash onto your face. All too soon you reach the white, glossy store-front. You glance at the time: 6.45. You sigh in relief as you realise you're early for once; glad you can make a good first impression.
The store manager remembers you from the interview, and explains that you'll be working downstairs in the 'street style' section (they wouldn't have new staff serving in the designer area). It's certainly a contrast from the white, glossy, minimalist design of the first floor – more of a grungy, warehouse type look, with bare light bulbs showcasing the less formal wear. You like it though – it's more your thing, and somehow feels less intimidating.
You're given a quick run-through of how the tills work, how you should treat customers, etc, until you're left to fend for yourself. The day actually turns out to be pretty relaxed – few of the upper-class customers actually bother going downstairs.
7.30pm. Closing time's not far away. Having only grabbed some fries from McDonald's for lunch, you're pretty much running on empty. You're just beginning to dose off, when you hear someone talking to your colleague, and footsteps echoing downstairs towards your floor.
'No...it's not like a formal coat I'm looking for...just something waterproof, like a bomber jacket or something...actually, a whole new outfit might be good...'
You jolt upright – you swear you recognise that American voice. Someone from your apartment building, maybe? No, you don't know anyone from the US here. Surely no one you know can afford a whole new outfit from somewhere like this?
'Um, y/n, could you assist this customer?'
You nod as the manager leaves, and your eyes draw up towards the figure in front of you. Your gaze is met by a crystalline blue stare, from a woman taller than you. Her delicate (and somehow familiar) features are framed by striking angular eyebrows and dishevelled, blonde hair – dripping wet from the rain that must still be going. Dark eye makeup is streaked down her face, but the contrast only makes her eyes look an even more glittering blue. Her t-shirt and jeans also look completely soaked, and her frame is shivering slightly. You can't help but think how gorgeous she looks. She smiles and waves to catch your attention.
'Um, hey!'
You blink, realising that you've been staring at her like an idiot for the last minute or so.
'Sorry, hi, um what're you looking for today?' the words come out a garbled mess...somehow you feel intimidated by her presence.
She looks down at herself before replying, 'Um, everything, really.' She laughs, and you laugh along too.
'Haha, of course – looks like you really got caught in a downpour! I'm sure there's plenty that'll suit you...sorry, I didn't catch your name?'
She looks a little surprised, before answering 'It's Taylor.'
Why did she look at me like that? Oh god, maybe I know her from college or something and I'm being totally rude not to have recognised her. Anxious thoughts begin to swim around your head, but the awkward moment passes and she continues talking.
'Yeah, the rain was getting crazy, I just needed to get inside somewhere before my entire face washed away!' She heads over to the 'new in' corner of the shop and begins browsing. Entranced by her beauty and charm, as much as you want to follow her you know store policy is not to be too invasive.
'Well, let me know if you need anything' you choke out. Your voice is at an embarrassingly high pitch compared to usual. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to notice; she nods back and winks at you. You feel yourself blushing.
You try not to glance over too much as she wonders around the softly lit room, selecting items carefully.
It's not long before she approaches you with an armful of clothes. 'So, where are the fitting rooms?'
You lead her over. 'I'll be back at the till if you need anything'
'Actually, could you wait here? I'm going to need a second opinion'
You nod, the request flooding you with excitement.
'This place has some really nice stuff – are you the buyer here?' she calls from behind the changing curtain.
'Oh god no – this is my first day working here, actually.'
'Oh no way! It's really cool'.
That slightly husky, maybe southern? Voice sounds so familiar...who is she?
Your thoughts are cut short as she opens the curtain and faces you.
'What do you think? You can be totally honest with me, I've chosen some bad outfits before'
Taylor appears in a silken pine green bomber jacket. Beneath is a short black T-shirt dress, accentuating her legs perfectly. Her delicate features are framed by gold earrings and a chain necklace.
She smiles at you expectantly, waiting for a reply. It's then that your recollection of where you've seen her face comes flooding back to you. You've seen that expression a hundred times online; Instagram, Spotify playlists, Radio 1. Holy shit, of course – she's Taylor Swift!
You shake yourself out of your stupor . 'You...you look...incredible, Taylor'
You swear you see a faint blush form on her cheeks. 'Oh gosh, I wouldn't go that far. Thanks, though – I guess I'll go with these. Would it be weird if I kept them on and put my wet stuff in a bag instead?'
You're still stood gazing, amazed at who you're looking at now that you're brain has finally processed who you've been serving.
'Don't worry, I'll still pay!'
'Huh? Oh, of course, no problem. Bring them to the till and I'll bag them up for you.' She hands you the damp clothes. Your heart involuntarily begins to beat at a rapid pace once you hold them. You quickly fold them into the bags, hoping she won't notice your quick breathing.
As Taylor's swiping her credit card, you glance at the time. She notices your frown as you realise it's 30 minutes after closing time.
'Oh god, sorry I've totally been keeping you!'
You shake your head 'No, it's fine – you've been the nicest company I've had all day.' A smile curves her soft, rose lips, and she laughs quietly. It's a sort of raspy, yet melodic sound.
Your cheeks are ignited once again with a fiery red blush as you make eye contact. You lead her up the stairs, before handing her the bags. Glancing out the window, the streets are an inky black, except for the glints of raindrops, reflecting the storefront light as they shatter against the pavement.
'Well, it's been wonderful meeting you, Taylor'. You your manager didn't hear – that's a way too informal comment for a customer. But you really feel like you've almost developed a friendship with her over the past few hours.
'You too – thanks so much for the help.'
Your manager sees you opening the door for Taylor to leave, and calls over 'You know your shift ended 45 minutes ago, y/n – feel free to go now as well.'
You smile back and grab your bag, and head out after Taylor. The night air is thick with the smell of fallen rain. You notice the taller girl turn back to you as she ducks into a black car. 'Hey, you're not thinking of walking all the way back home in the dark now, are you?'
You explain you'll use the tube most of the way – you don't mind.
Taylor pauses, her expression unreadable. She seems to be contemplating something.
'Hey, if you're not busy...how about we go get something to drink together?'
Your mind can't exactly comprehend what she's just said. You admittedly don't really know much of her music, but you know enough that she's one of the most famous people on the planet. Lost for words, you nod.
She smiles and beckons you into the car. 'Come on, I know a place nearby.'
---------
You're currently nestled in an ancient pub booth, trying to keep your breathing relaxed as Taylor Swift places a pint of lager on the table in front of you. 'Glad you're a beer drinker too' she winks, and slides herself next to you.
'This is honestly...not what I was expecting'you say, glancing around the wood clad interior. You're still not sure if you've actually just overslept through your alarms and you're dreaming this all up.
'I'm honestly more obsessed with pubs than I want to admit. We just don't have places like this in the US. No one suspects me being somewhere like this either, so its great for me to hideout for a while'
You nod. 'It's really cute, reminds me of the kinds of places in my home town'
There's a moment of silence, before Taylor turns to you. 'So, you didn't recognise me at first, did you?' You glance at her, and are met by glassy blue eyes, waiting for reply. Her hair has dried from the rain into delicate curls, framing her face beautifully. Your heart jolts in fear that you've offended her.
'Oh no, I feel so rude! Just was a bit overwhelmed from my first day, I'm so sorry!'
You pause and glance at her expectantly. She still hasn't met your gaze, but you can see a faint blush beneath her cheeks from your last comment. You continue.
'Oh god no, don't be sorry at all! That's not what I meant - it was super refreshing, actually. Most of my conversations are have been with fans or press recently. It can send you a bit mad hearing the same stuff over and over'
'I can only imagine, it must be so draining'
She looks down at her glass. 'I can be...the fans are all very sweet, but a lot of the media definitely aren't. When someone's got an idea of what you're like in their head – even if you've never talked to them – they'll treat you like a different person. The stuff I've had shouted at me...'
She trails off, eyes glazed over with contemplation for a few seconds, before looking up at you, and smiling. 'That's why you seemed so nice. It was nice having someone talk to you who wasn't immediately gonna judge you in a certain way – just to treat you normally.'
'Also you looked pretty cute too.' She adds. You feel blood blossoming beneath your cheeks once again.
You notice you've finished your drink, and see Taylor downing the last of her beer.
'Anyway, enough about my pity party. Up for a couple more rounds?'
----
A few hours (and a maybe a few too many drinks) later, and any formalities have certainly been dropped. Your head feels light and cottony from the alcohol, and whatever stupid phrase comes out of your mouth is replied with a rasping, hiccupy laugh from an equally intoxicated Taylor.
Your conversation comparing the dumbest British slang to American slang eventually dies down to more serious work discussions. As you're talking about your career goals you notice Taylor is gazing at you with hazy, longing eyes. As your voice trails off she pulls out her phone.
'You don't suppose you'd mind giving me you're number? It's been such a fun night'
'Of course' you slur slightly.
The soft light of the screen illuminates her faultless features, and you fight back a very sudden and very strong urge to kiss her. As your face subconsciously draws closer towards hers, you notice the numbers on the screen.
'Shit, look at the time!' You blurt out.
The phone screen reads 2.06am (or, you're pretty sure it does – everything's beginning to look blurred).
You exchange numbers clumsily.
'I better get going.' You mumble, inelegantly slipping out of the booth seat.
She sighs and nods, stumbling outside with you. You're met by biting, cold night air. A sliver of moonlight drapes the streets with a silvery white light. You also notice the relentless sound of rain.
'Ugh, seriously? This rain just gets heavier!' you groan. The thought of making your way back across town on your own makes you want to cry a little.
'Hey,' Taylor places a warm hand on your shoulder, squeezes it lightly. 'At least let me give you some cash for a taxi'. She rifles through her wallet, and stuffs a pile of £10 notes into your hand. Your eyes widen at the excessive amount of money, and you initially refuse, but she insists. This is more than you make in a month. 'Should be enough' she mumbles.
Suddenly, a white flash of light blinds you, and you hear the sound of hasty footsteps. You blink confusedly.
'What the fuck was that? Lightning?'
Taylor lets out a smirk. You still look baffled. 'Paparazzi. Guess that's another hideout I'll have to abandon' her smile fades.
Impulsively, you lift her chin gently to face you, stroking her cheek with your thumb. Soon you can feel her breath close against your skin, still laced with the scent of alcohol. Everything moves in a shadowy blur. You're not sure if she was aiming for your cheek, but you find your mouth being met by her petal-soft, dark pink lips. Biting your lip slightly, your mouth part slightly. As you feel her tongue gingerly explore, you entwine your fingers into the glowing golden mass of her hair, pulling her closer. It's a messy, mildly confused kiss; but despite this, you only feel disappointment when you pull apart so soon.
You notice the yellow light of a cab a road or so away, distorted through the sheets of rain.
'You should go get that.' Taylor urges. You sigh, drawing away from her, but nod signalling to the taxi with your hand.
The cab pulls up, but you turn to her one last time, wearing an almost comically sullen face. She smiles. 'Don't worry, I'm sure we'll see each other soon enough. Just make sure you get back safe.' She brushes a few strands of hair out of your eyes, with a still not entirely sober hand.
'Yeah, you too. See you, Taylor'. You hop into the taxi.
----
Edit: Sorry this took a while! Ended up a bit longer than expected - just wanted a bit of an anti-Joe alwyn version of 'london boy' bc I rly cannot stand that song lmaao . more Lana + Billie stuff coming soon! xxxx