The Cruelest Summer

Chapter 2- Alone in New York

 She had done it. She broke up with Tom. Another one had bitten the dust. Sure, Taylor had seen this breakup coming, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. She knew she could count on Twitter mockery and People Magazine headlines to reinforce her own inner-monologue that she couldn't keep a man. For crying out loud, this was what, ex-boyfriend number 12?

I should stop wasting my time. I'm never gonna find someone, and they're never gonna stay. My life just doesn't have the capacity to deal with relationships. I'm better off being alone.

Somehow her NYC apartment was even quieter than her Rhode Island house. Taylor wondered momentarily if it had always been quiet and she simply never paid any attention. After all, her sleepovers and squad dinners, and rooftop parties were always acting as white-noise. Now there was nothing to mask the silence. It was just Taylor and 9,000 square ft of emptiness.

She thought about calling her Mom or Abigail, but a quick glance at her phone told her that it was 6:30 AM in Nashville. Too early.

It was still too early by Taylor's own standards. It was only 7:30 AM in New York and last night she hadn't made her way to bed until well after one in the morning. She had stayed up late reading Gatsby and scrolling through Twitter with a glass or five of merlot.

The chime of a 'Words With Friends' notification reminded her that it wasn't early in London. She smiled at the word "Frosty A" had played: garrulous. Joe had such an amazing vocabulary. He was great competition.

Taylor hastily put together 'mediocre' and grinned when she received a message from "Frosty A" in response.

***

"Damn I might need to step it up since ur playing me at 2:00 am and then again at 7:30 am. When do u even sleep?"

"Hahahaha what can I say? I'm dedicated and have got a fucked up sleep schedule"

***

The two continued to play for thirty minutes or so until Joe had to leave for a meeting with his publicist. As Taylor plunged herself deeper into her king-sized mattress, she tried to picture Joe playing scrabble with her on his phone in a bustling tube station and an empty PR Firm lobby. She couldn't help but be curious as to if he got excited when he got notifications from her. Did he break out into a grin? Did he go beat-red?

Taylor's curiosities annoyed her. She was obsessing over her online scrabble buddy- how fucking pathetic was that? She was goddamn Taylor Allison Swift and had the hots for a normie. A normie she hadn't even met properly. The first time she saw Joe in person, she was practically intoxicated into oblivion. The second and final time they crossed paths was at the Met Gala and their interaction of touching hands and quick hellos lasted all of three minutes. A very insidious three minutes of course, but three minutes nonetheless. Taylor wondered if those three minutes were it. What if they simply never saw each other again? The idea of that sent a strange feeling of contrition down Taylor's spine, yet she knew she was ridiculous for counting on meeting up with Joe again. His life was in London, hers- or what was left of it- was in New York. His career was starting, hers was ending. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps it was a fluke, a once-in-a-lifetime connection that wasn't supposed to amount to anything.