I Vowed I Would Always Be Yours

3. Diesel is Desire

It was a Tuesday night in June and Taylor lays in bed, alone and lost in thought. Alone, she justifies, but not entirely lonely. It wasn't a soul crushing, mind fogging, devastating feeling of loss and loneliness, rather a dull ache. An unsettled feeling in her tummy.  A brief tickle of melancholy.

Sunday night she had a show, and was beyond satisfied. Happy, even. She had thought to herself how it doesn't get better than this as her fans screamed their hearts out for her.

Monday started eventful and cheery. She flew back to New York in order to record more in her favorite studio the upcoming week. Since she was able to drink freely without worry of an early morning and a show the following morning, she hosted a little get together at her place. Not a party, she justified, but rather a gathering for her closest friends. And their friends. And her body guards. And their friends.

    Soon enough, her apartment was buzzing from activity and music and people and drinks. Especially drinks. Halfway through the night, she realized mid-sip where this would take her if she continued. She set the glass down while laughing at a friend's joke, and slid it as far as she could. After leaving that conversation she headed toward one of her closest bodyguards, the one assigned to work and not party like the remaining. She had timidly asked him to monitor her drinking and to politely remove a glass from her if she continued. He chuckled kindly at her request, patted her back, and told her he was proud of her. Unfortunately, the previous shots hadn't taken effect until later, leaving her drunk minutes later. As the guest slowly filtered out and she was left alone, she thought to herself that there is nothing worse than this.

Tuesday morning her head wasn't the worst its ever been, but she decided she definitely should have had less. She took a light day, consisting of staying in bed late, calling her mom, watching tv, and cooking her own dinner.

But that Tuesday night in June she lays in bed, and she just misses him. He always loved quiet days together. All their friends were at her party, he would've loved to have been there. He would've especially loved watching her perform. Her week just wasn't the same without him.

Somewhere through her racing mind and scrambled thoughts, she decides she would call him. Was it crazy? Of course not. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? One awkward conversation between two adults who still wished the best for each other. Or perhaps he wouldn't answer. But in her mind, that didn't outweigh the chance of the best thing to happen. Taylor lays in bed and decides the best thing would to have him right next to her. 

In a moment of bravery, she reaches for her phone, and openes to messages. It was a habit of hers, checking the pinned messages in hopes he texted. He never did. She clicks on his name (emoji filled, as she never found the urge to change it,) to open his contact. Her finger hoveres over the call button. Her mind races. She sets the phone back on the nightstand.

Tomorrow, she tells herself. And with that she attempts to sleep, feeling a mixture of cooling relief yet nerves gnawing through her bones.

—-

She works herself up the entire day. Whilst working out, a once a week strict occurrence of hers, she played no music. Just herself and her mind, like an psychopath, she admitted. She feels it in her core, today's the day. Today's the day. Today's the day.
It's post dinner, and Taylor is beyond nervous. Her trembling hands hold the phone, and she laughs at how absurd she is. She can perform for millions upon millions of people without a tremor, but here she is terrified of a phone call.

Deciding to delay again, she seeks out her bodyguard employed. Unable to trust herself after the weeklong nightmare post-breakup, she gave him the key to the wine cellar, to be used 'only for emergencies.' She found him in the foyer.
"Hey, there you are! I need you to uh, unlock something for me real quick," she demands nervously.

"Taylor," he sighs, "you told me specifically-"
"I know, I know. It's just... I just need a glass. Or two. I'm- I'm trying to make a call." He raises a knowing eyebrow.

"I'll tell you what," he says while walking her towards the wine. "I'll pour you two glasses then lock the cabinet back up, so you can't argue that you need a third," he chuckles.

"Thank you, really." It's nice to have a friend, she thinks to herself.

Finally, she's ready. The number of glasses wasn't quite as many as needed, but at least her hands stoped shaking. She feels a comfortable dull to her mind and heaviness to her eyelids. She picks up the phone, navigates to his contact, and goes for it. She holds her breath as the phone rings loudly, echoing off the kitchen counter. Six rings in, and then they stop. A voice from the other end.

"Taylor?"