Present Day (March, 2023)
Shots and Coffee
Your POV
What I wouldn't do for a shot right now.
The only problem is that it's eight in the morning.
Instead my hands cradle a too hot cup of coffee, occasionally gently bringing it to my mouth to swallow a few sips, even though the burnt my tongue in a perfectly uncomfortable way, one that I would likely be regretting for the rest of the day, the soft tissue of tongue already feeling painful as it scraped the roof of my mouth.
The cab driver opened my door and as I looked up to thank him, I could see the twinkle of recognition that sparked in his eye as he got a closer look at me. Most of them don't say anything. But you can tell. Their face controls just a little bit, gets a little bit higher, a little bit smilier, a bit nicer. They want to see how long they can be in your proximity, how long they can relish to be in front of a famous person, even if I wasn't Taylor Swift famous. They want a story to tell their friends. But most of all they want a sneak peek into the life of what fame is like.
I balance myself into the car by holding the roof of the car and promptly squishing myself into the backseat. I roll my eyes and flick my burnt tongue against the roof of my tongue. Just my luck. They're playing my song.
"You wrote this?" He asks me, still staring at the road as he starts moving forward. Apparently his initial plan of disregarding my fame had gone out of the window. Due to curiosity I guess. At least he's being genuine.
"Yeah." I sigh, leaning against the car window, watching the cars whiz by. They're slower than in New York. It's still a busy city. It's just not the busy city.
I can't believe they still play that song on the radio. It's from my first album which I released way back in 2021. And it just happened that the song that I wrote, that really hurt me the most, was the most liked song on that album. I guess people like angst.
"Who's it about?" He says, humming a bit more absent-mindedly, as if suddenly losing interest in the not so riveting conversation he was having with the celebrity in his backseat.
"Oh just this guy..."
The Past (May, 2019)
That 'Guy'
Your POV
I'm way too hungover for this. I think I may throw up as soon as this plane leaves. And the worst part is I can't even complain about being hungover to my mom –because she'll probably come to LA and kill me for underage drinking– on the phone, who's busy fussing over me, making sure I'll be safe in New York, making sure I have everything in my luggage, asking me if I'll be safe.
"Yes mom." I mutter, a bit embarrassed that someone might overhear this conversation. A grown 19 year old woman being coddled by her mother was definitely not the image I was hoping to give off. Plus, the old lady on the aisle seat was already staring at me with a disapproving glare. Which I return. Because fuck her.
I hang up –finally, thank god– and I hear a polite excuse coming from where the lady sat. As I angle my eyes to catch a glance at the girl who would be the barrier between me and this decrepit woman I linger a little too long. Making her way to sit next to me –me– was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Long blonde hair that parted in just the right way was scrunched up into a messy bun, she wore sweatpants with a dark hoodie that seemed to have some kind of phrase scrawled onto the front of it. She was effortlessly perfect. Even in her messy, airport outfit she looked stunning.
Her startling blue eyes catch mine and she smiles sweetly which makes me embarrassedly look away. I take a deep breath and adjust my headphones.
Just as I begin zoning out into the sweet voice of Elton John I'm tapped on the shoulder. I slowly lower my headphones and look at the blonde who leans in to whisper something.
"What's up with you and aisle seat?"
"What?"
"That lady keeps looking at you like you killed three generations of her family."
I laugh at her comment, returning her gaze a bit more confidently now.
"Yeah. I think she thinks I have chlamydia or something."
"You probably do." She teases, her smile turning mischievous.
"Are you calling me a whore?"
"Mmm if the shoe fits."
"Oh my god." I laugh and slightly elbow her.
"So Miss Chlamydia-"
"Oh my god, please don't call me that."
"What's your name?"
"Y/N L/N. You?"
"Bond. James Bond." She answers, which earns her another laugh from me.
"Ah yes, the cute blonde girl is his spitting image."
"Mhm." She says, giggling a bit.
"But seriously, what is your name?"
"Reneé Rapp."
Present Day (March, 2023)
Snow Angel
Your POV
There's something so nice about falling asleep in a car. Feeling the slight vibrations rumble against your head, music echoing in your head, stuck in a state of consciousness and unconsciousness. I think it's one of my favorite things to do. Which admittedly, might be a bit sad.
As the song on the radio fades out an all too familiar chord progression starts playing which immediately wakes me up from this state of delirium.
"My daughter loves this song." The driver says, his eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror as he notices I'm awake.
Well then, she's probably gay. I think but instead I keep my mouth shut. When the song starts hitting that verse, one that gives me goosebumps every time I hear it; I speak again.
"Could you turn it off?"
"Not a fan of Snow Angel Miss L/N?" He asks, turning down the volume until it is barely a whisper in the leather seated car.
"Nope. It's a beautiful song." I say, matter-of-factly, returning his quizzical eyes with a blank stare.
"Okay..." He mutters, more to himself then to me, probably wondering what the fuck I was on.
I wish I went a different way
Me too Reneé.
YOU ARE READING
What Can I Do? (renee rapp x reader)
RomanceYou and Renee were young and naive and so it ended. But what happens when you are both cast in the same Broadway show --turned movie-- that ignited your love?
