It Had to be Taylor

Chapter 7

(I TOOK THIS PHOTO OML)

(Haley's POV)

Haley, wake up," a soft voice says. Taylor's. I groan and roll over onto my stomach.

"No," I mumble.

"Haley," she says kind of sternly. "We're flying to New York, remember?"

Sighing, I get up and change clothes. Everything is pretty much packed, so I bring down my suitcase, which isn't heavy.

"There you are. We can't be late for the flight. Come on," she says as she tosses me a pack of Pop Tarts. Someone helps us carry our luggage, and the two cats in carriers. We get into the back seat of a black minivan, the cats in between us.

We sit in silence for about a half hour, listening to the radio play softly. I enjoy the peacefulness. Until the driver turns up the volume so we can all clearly hear the intro to 'Shake it Off.' I pretend I'm asleep so I won't have to show Taylor that this is one of the worst songs ever.

After I successfully fake sleep during the painful three and a half minutes, the guy on the radio begins to blabber on about '1989' and how this is going to be one of her most successful albums and about the secret sessions and other crap none of us care about.

Taylor's hand grabs my right shoulder and gently shakes it to "wake me up." I'm glad to know that I pulled it off. But I won't always be able to do that. We enter the airport, get our boarding passes, and go through security through the VIP line. As we head to our gate, which is on the far end of the airport, two men with huge cameras follow us and take tons of pictures with bright flashes. Taylor seems to not notice them, but I do. They don't say anything, unlike how many paparazzi do. And there's only two. Some other people manage to snap a few pics of us on their iPhones. At least we don't have to waste time signing stuff and taking selfies.

We finally get to our gate a couple minutes before they are about to start boarding. A little red headed girl with her mom walks up shyly.

"Hi Taylor Swift! I'm Claire and I'm 6!"

"Well, hi there Claire!"

"Can you please sign this? And then can we take a picture?"

"Of course!" Taylor exclaims as she quickly signs a page on the little notebook Claire held out. Then Taylor takes the mom's phone to snap a quick selfie.

"Thank you so much Taylor! I love your music!" The girl squeals.

"Aw, thank you! It was really nice meeting you, and have a great day!"

Just as she leaves and the mom gives a grateful smile, they call up those in first class. The flight is quite short, so we're not taking Taylor's private jet. Apparently that's only for tours and other important trips. We wait for 45 minutes before the plane starts to move.

Then, I finally realize. I've never been on an airplane before. Never. Never in my life.

I know it's going to be fine, but I can't help but recall the worst possible outcomes. And the flight is only about an hour or so.

My body tenses up and I try to hide my anxiousness. Thankfully, Taylor doesn't notice; she has her earbuds in listening to music. Aw, crap. I left mine in the suitcase, which is under the plane. Taking in a deep breath, I shut my eyes and try to remain calm. Hundreds of flights safely depart and arrive daily, so what's there to worry about? Nothing. When I exhale, the breath comes out shaky, and loud enough for Taylor to remove one earbud and take my left hand. She rubs her thumb over the back of it.