It Had to be Taylor

Chapter 5

(HALEY'S POV)

Today is the day of the Secret Sessions. In a few hours I'm going to be drowning in a bunch of screaming fangirls. I change out of my pajamas and into one of my nicer shirts and a pair of jeans with sneakers. The clock reads 9:37 a.m. I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair.

As I walk out, I nearly trip over something. Meredith. She looks up at me with her gold eyes. I kneel down an stroke her fur for a couple moments.

It's almost 10 a.m., so I head down to see what's for breakfast. I smell something I haven't smelled in a long time. French toast.

"Good morning, Haley!" Taylor greets cheerfully. "Want some French toast?"

"Sure," I answer. I sit down at the dining room table and stare out the window. Soon, a plate with two slices of French toast cut in half is set in front of me. A moment later she comes around with maple syrup, a thing of cinnamon, and two little warm packs of butter like they have at restaurants. I spread the butter, sprinkle some cinnamon, and pour some syrup. After cutting it up into smaller, bite-sized pieces, I take a bite.

It's probably the best breakfast food I've ever had. And it's not like the decent ones I ate at my old home from time to time. Actually, I think it's homemade.

Taylor comes to sit down in the chair across from me with a plate of her own. "Is this homemade?" I inquire.

She nods "Yeah. I tend to cook a lot of homemade food."

"Well, it's great," I say. That's probably the one compliment I'll ever give her. That her cooking is great. I would include her house, but I obviously expected that since she's rich. Her cat isn't too bad, considering the fact that I kind of hate cats. Not as much as Taylor Swift, though. Other than that, she's just a stuck up, lonely, and slutty bitch.

"Thank you," she says. "I especially love to bake. And we're going to be doing a lot of that today."

I don't say anything in response, and I'm about to go out my plate in the sink when I notice something out of the corner of my eye.

"Olivia, get down," Taylor says sternly. A little ball of white fur has hopped up on to the table. Another cat. Wow. Just great. I watch her get lifted off the table and gently set on the floor. "That's Olivia, but I sometimes call her Dibbles. She is not the best listener."

I head over to the couch, bored. I consider heading back upstairs to draw, but I don't feel like moving.

"You know you can watch TV,"
Taylor says. "It's your home, too."
No it's not. It will never be.

I take the remote resting on the table and turn on the huge TV. I flip through some cartoons, which none that good are on at the time. I stop it on a random channel after a few moments to get up and grab some more juice.

I'm glad that was the channel I stopped on, because it turned out to be BBC. And the familiar tune of Doctor Who was playing. I hurry to the couch so I don't miss anything, especially since it's a rerun of the episode I missed a few days back at the orphanage.

The episode was pretty good, and it ended on a cliff hanger, so the next part shows in a few days. I turn the TV off since nothing good comes on after, and look around the place.

"When do the sessions start?" I ask.

"About 5:00," she answers.

"Okay," I say. I have no clue what to do, so I read a random book off the shelf and start reading. It's pretty good.

"Ooh, I love that one," Taylor says. "It's really good." Nobody asked for your opinion, Taylor.

Hours pass, surprisingly fast, and I head on upstairs. I'm nearly halfway done with the book. I mean, it's not that long, but Taylor was right about it being enjoyable. I don't know why, but I start to draw some pictures based off the book.