highway don't care - taylor swift x reader

highway don't care

You're about half an hour's drive outside of the last real town you passed through on this long, lonely stretch of highway when you hear it. A horrible, metal-on-metal grinding sound coming from your engine, accompanied by a rising haze of smoke and the smell of something burning. Your car shudders and sputters.

"Shit!" you slam your hands on the steering wheel before steering over to the shoulder and rolling to a stop. "Fucking unbelievable. Perfect. Just my fucking luck." The rant falls on deaf ears, because your only audience is the endless field of corn next to the highway. The tall stalks don't offer even a kernel of sympathy.

You'd set off on your solo cross-country road trip because you needed to get away, needed to be alone for a while, needed to just be somewhere else . So you packed a bag and pointed your car west, stopping when you needed to rest, taking the long roads, seeing the weird little sights this country has to offer. Now you're alone in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from home, with a dead car.

It's hot, and the afternoon summer sun warms the cabin of your car as you sit there, head on the steering wheel, wallowing in your misfortune. At some point, tears start to fall and you don't bother trying to stop them. If you can't indulge in a good crying session in your dead car in the middle of nowhere, when can you?

You're not sure how long you've been sitting there on the side of the road, but it's long enough that you've stopped crying, when you hear the whine of a tow truck pulling to a stop next to your car, Taylor's Swift-Tow emblazoned on the side. The truck is so much taller than your tiny car that you can't even see the driver inside the cab. The reality of your situation settles in - you're a woman, alone on the side of the road, and you're about to be alone with some random country tow truck driver. Images of grizzled, greasy men flood your mind and you brace yourself for the worst as you hear the tow truck door open and close, his footsteps closing in on your car. God, could this day get any worse?

"Hi there," a distinctly feminine voice snaps you out of your mental panic spiral. "Looks like you might need some help with your car?" You turn your head without lifting it from the steering wheel and see a woman standing a few feet away from your car, staring back at you with a look of concern and compassion in her clear, blue eyes. "D'you mind if I take a look, ma'am?"

You take a dramatic, deep breath (because you're stressed about the car and because you're not used to being called "ma'am") before responding. "I guess so, yeah." You lift your head off the steering wheel and collect yourself, wiping any lingering tears away before stepping out of the car. "It made a noise, it started to smoke, and I pulled over." You sigh, throwing your hands up in a shrug. "Honestly, I sort of gave up after that."

Tow Truck Girl nods without responding and walks over to your car. You can't help but notice the way the muscles of her tanned, toned arms flex as she lifts and props up the hood. She bends over to inspect the engine and you let your eyes wander down her body, taking in the faded Levi's slung low on her hips and the white tank top that hugs her curves like a second skin. You have to admit, Tow Truck Girl is hot as hell.

"Well," she says, looking up from the engine and over at you with a grimace, "this isn't going anywhere without some work." You sigh and nod your head, accepting your (and your car's) fate. Tow Truck Girl continues, "I'll need to bring it back to my shop to get a full picture. Can I give you a tow?"

"Yeah, thanks," you sigh. "It's not like I have many other options." Thoughts of thousand dollar mechanic bills flood your mind. It's money you don't have right now, especially after several weeks off work and on the road.

"Wait, how did you even find me? I didn't call for a tow truck." Maybe you were right to be nervous about this tow truck driving stranger, even if she isn't a dude.