taylor swift but gay

betty

"betty", a love story by Taylor Swift

Missing her was the worst part. I could deal with the dirty stares, the feet sticking out in the hallways for the sole purpose of tripping me. I could deal with her transferring out of class, desperate to get away from me. After all, it was my fault. I lost her. At least, in a sense. I had chosen someone over her in the hopes that I would get over the irrational feelings that had claimed my heart. High school isn't the place to fall in love. True love happens outside of school buildings, hidden behind doors. It doesn't matter that we were away from Bridgebrook Prep. Summer vacation doesn't count. It doesn't matter that we spent hours recreating High School Musical 2. I had to go and pick August. A nice girl, a beautiful one. But so obviously beautiful that she hadn't cared to focus on anything other than that fact. Shouts and bruises and cold sheets made up our relationship, her endless declarations of love dissipating the second she left the house.

I don't know why I ever thought it would work out, we were doomed from the start. I spent my nights beside her, dreaming of dancing under the stars with you. What were you dreaming about? Perhaps your new boyfriend, the boy you danced with at homecoming. Who goes to that anyways? I only came to see you. I'm afraid of crowds, but I came to see you. Not so that you would take me back, but so that I could see you again. A selfish request, yes, but it was needed. It backfired though, sending me into this very spiral of missing you and wanting you.

I miss the way you laughed at my name, telling me that James was a boy's name, and I was the girliest girl you had ever met, my pink dress spread out on top of your black sheets, the ones that matched your jacket, your lips. I missed the way that my pink gloss would mix with your inky lipstick, pressing the small, glittering pieces onto the makeup. The way I could tell that you had never wiped your mouth off after we kissed by the way your mouth would sparkle in the light. I would laugh, and you would ask me why. I never told you, but that was it.

The only hope I have is for your party, the big bash on the 13th. I've been dreaming about it for days, the thought of me pulling up to your house, confessing on your porch in front of all your friends. The stupid, vapid ones that I hate. The ones that you love, and I am willing to love for you.

The days until the party have been coming and going as I count them down, so used to the routine that I don't realize at first that today is the day, that I'm an hour late like I always was. The lights of your house remind me of that time I biked past. I came to apologize that day, but when you stepped outside to answer the knock, I had already left. I hope you forgive me for that. I knock again, sky dark. You stumble out almost immediately, drunk laugh gone as you immediately sober at the sight of me on your porch. The bimbos that follow you stand in the doorway leering at me with painted smiles.

"I love you." The words tumble out of my mouth, an uncontrollable waterfall of thoughts and feelings. "I've loved you since the day you strode into my homeroom class, a painted leather jacket on your back that both scared me and intrigued me. I loved you since the day you asked for my number, a smirk on your face that I spent days thinking about afterwards." 

I have loved you since I first drunkenly kissed you, the only time I have ever made the first move. I loved you so, so, so much when you pulled me in under the streetlight at night, the tips of my vans pressing against the ground as I stood on my toes to kiss you back while it poured around us." 

I love you now, as I stand on your porch, embarrassed to my core, at your birthday party that I invited myself too. I have loved you all summer, and all fall. I loved you all last year, and I love you now." My breath is short. 

"I'll love you forever, betty. Do you love me?" The silence that follows is deafening, and the only thought in my mind is the question of whether the tears on your cheeks are because you love me back or you're about to reject me, to push away my confession and walk back inside, leaving me behind on your porch. At least that is until I hear your response.

"Yes."