loml | Taylor Swift gxg

The Tortured Poets Department | Chapter 2

**tw: body dysmorphia and self-harm

**imagine swift and kelce are not dating.

"Can we meetup tomorrow? I only plan for being here for a fortnight."

My eyes burn into the text. What?

First off, what the hell is a fortnight?!

"noun

1. the space of fourteen nights and fourteen days; two weeks"

Interesting. She's here for two weeks. This'll be fun.

I text her my info.

My name is Ellie Nowak. I teach English language arts at middle school level. Ironic, knowing I don't know what the word 'fortnight' is. I know Fortnite, though! I am 25 years old. I was born and raised in North Carolina, and I graduated from UNC with a bachelor's degree. I am a poet, though I rarely share my writings in real life, usually just on social media. 

That's like all there is about me.

We make conversation, nothing too special. I propose going to a small burger place that I frequent to get lunch at. She agrees, giving me a time she can go, along with her hotel's address, where I'll pick her up at.

I tell her goodnight before I assess into my 15-hour slumber.

***

I groan as I wake up. This day could either go wonderfully or terribly. Probably terrible because my hair somehow turned into a middle part last night.

As I turn on the shower and undress, I am frozen. I stare into the mirror. I stare into my body. I wrap my arms around my body slowly. I stare at my waist, my stomach, the small scars that once were consuming my whole.

I turn around, afraid to look back. I step into the cold shower. Previous cuts from years ago hurt still. Maybe it's because I know they're there. Maybe they really do just ache.

I don't feel the need to do it anymore. When I stare at my cuts, I just want to do whatever I can to cover them, hide them from the world. I think that's why I make a great teacher; I don't want my students to feel the need to do that. They don't know I did, but I did. I want to be an advocate for those who end up being a selective mute around the topic.

The freezing cold drops on my skin sink, far, far in. Stabbing me almost. I rub several face washes in. I wash my hair with shampoos and conditioners. I carefully rub body wash on, since I don't want to stink.

While I stand in the shower, everything comes running back to me.

I'm going on a date with Taylor Swift today at 12 PM. Holy shit.

Once I'm done in the shower, I dry my body and walk into my closet. What would be impressive but casual? Fuck, I should've planned my outfit last night. 

I wear a short pair of denim jorts, white and black Adidas Sambas, a long sleeve camo shirt with a black tee on top. I pick out some light silver jewelry to go with my cross necklace. Overall, my fit seems okay to go to lunch in. As I do this, my thoughts wander.

I know I have a celebrity crush on Taylor. I think most of her fans do, anyway. And it'd be ridiculous of me to not mention that I am straight. I have never had a girlfriend, had a crush on a girl, or even kissed a girl. Yes, I think girls are pretty. But not pretty in that way. Not that it's bad to be like that, of course!

I check my Apple Watch and see it's about 10 AM now. Perfect. Her hotel is only around 15 minutes away. I feel like her personal chauffer. Not complaining.

*** (i'm so lazy)

I park my black Audi S8 in the front of her hotel, seeing her slowly come out. She wore black shorts, grey tank top, and a cozy-autumn looking red colored flannel. Fuck, she was pretty.

Never mind that, I open the door for her from the inside of the car. She closed the door as carefully as she could, setting herself up on the passenger seat.

"Hey." She smiles. I study her face; her eyes are gleaming, teeth shining, makeup immaculate. I know I am not gay but she makes me want to fold.

"Hi." I say, somewhat shy. 

I begin the drive to Chapel Hill, where the burger joint is located. I explain to her that I live in Durham, however I work at a school in Chapel Hill, which is how I know of the place. 

We make small talk, until a certain topic comes up.

"I hope I'm not like... weird for saying this, but you're very pretty" I hear her say. My cheeks instantly flush. She fiddles with her hands and I fiddle with my own hand that is not on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, you're so weird for saying that" I reply sarcastically. I'm grinning so much at this point. "No, but seriously, thank you, Swift." I see a small blush creep up on her face.

She smirks, taking my free hand in hers, acting like she's kissing it. "You're very welcome, Nowak." She makes my last name so sexy. Lord, she's torturing me.

jaelzver

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