I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Taylor

The school bell rings. As students around me begin packing their bags, I stand up, my backpack slung over my shoulder.

I walk to the door, looking out for you in the crowd of students rushing to get home.

As I scan the groups of people, someone grabs my hand. I go to scream, but right in front of me is your hair, neon blue jacket, and a smile that could light up this whole town. "You took too long."

We weave through the throng, making our way outside.

It's chilly, there's a gentle snowfall, and there's sidewalk chalk on the asphalt that is covered in snow.

"Come on, I'll walk you home, Tay," you say, pulling my hand towards the gates.

I chuckle, allowing you to lead me towards the pavement and the road.

You walk on my right, closer to all the traffic. I look down. I'm blushing.

...

"Taylor!"

I follow your voice. You're sitting on the swing set in the playground with your usual lunch; a sandwich and a smuggled-in root beer.

I smile and head over, sitting on the swing right beside you.

"No lunch?" you ask me, sipping on your root beer.

I shake my head no. "Not that hungry."

"You're lying," you say accusatorially, your eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm not!" I argue back, defensive.

You shake your head and split your sandwich. You shove the bigger half into my hand and say, "Eat. That's healthy."

I laugh, but I take a bite, unable to say no to you. The bread and the peanut butter feel good in my empty stomach.

"Did you have breakfast?" you ask, passing me the bottle of root beer.

I take a swig and shake my head, suddenly ashamed.

You sigh and shove the other uneaten half of the sandwich into my hand. I refuse, but you insist. "We're not leaving this swing set until you've finished that sandwich. All of it."

Hesitantly, I take bites out of it, slowly swinging back and forth on the swing.

Finally, when I finish, and the root beer is empty, you stand up and take my hand, leading me back into the school.

...

The school bell rings. Finally.

I stand up again, and I subconsciously look around for your presence in the sea of students who are already piling out of the door. My heart sinks to my stomach when I don't see you.

Reluctantly, I make my way to the school doors, feeling empty.

"Tay! Wait up!"

At the sound of your voice, I turn around, and my heart flutters in my chest at the sight of your signature grin.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't see you," I say as you take my hand.

"I got held back," you say, sheepish. "Got in trouble."

"Again?"

You nod, but when I press, you're tight-lipped. I take the hint and back off.

"Let's study at mine," you say softly.

I simply nod, not wanting to get you more upset.

...

"Mom, I'm home!" you call out as we cross the threshold to your house.

Your mom peeks her head out of the kitchen, a grin so identical to yours on her face. "Hi, girls. I'll make you snacks. Is Taylor sleeping over?"

You look over at me. I hold back a breath of relief when I notice you're not mad anymore.

It's a Friday night.

"Yes, Mrs. Y/L/N," I say, smiling.

Your mom nods and heads back into the kitchen as we make our way into your bedroom.

You throw your backpack onto the floor beside your bed, and I set my own down beside yours.

We both knew when you invited me over that we wouldn't study.

...

"Aren't the stars so pretty tonight?"

We're on the roof of your house. I'm laying my head on your arm as we stare up at the sky.

You hum softly. "I think you're prettier."

I feel a fluttering in my chest and a rush of heat in my cheeks. I hide my head in your neck and playfully whine in complaint.

But the truth is, I like it.

...

"Okay, okay!" you exclaim, that beautiful smile on your lips again.

You tell a goofy story, and I manage to keep my laugh genuine as I reminisce it.

We fall asleep in your sleeping bag, cuddling. That's what friends do.

...

"Okay, question number... eight, I think," you say, grimacing slightly as you think.

I don't even notice what you ask me. I'm too busy staring at you.

...

"Gosh, I'm stressed," you groan out as you slam your notebook shut.

We are at your house, supposedly studying for a midterm.

I chuckle softly. "Yeah, me too."

...

"I lost one of my gloves," I whisper as I force the sleeve of my jacket over my already freezing hand.

"Here," you say, handing me one of yours. I notice you've taken both off.

I thank you and slip your glove onto my hand.

That night, I can't help but take in the scent of your sanitizer from the inside. I fall asleep to it.