So High School | T. Swift x OC

four

Sunday.

Sunday, 6pm to be exact. The New York skyline was bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the bustling city below. Inside his hotel room, Eliot was pacing back and forth in nothing but his boxers, his heart pounding in his chest. The date with Taylor Swift was just an hour away, and he was spiralling into a full-blown panic about what to wear.

His suitcase lay open on the bed, clothes scattered haphazardly around it. Shirts, jeans, jackets, and shoes were strewn across the room in a chaotic mess. Eliot ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself as he held up a shirt only to discard it seconds later.

"None of this is right," he groaned, tossing another shirt onto the growing pile on the floor.

Noah, lounging comfortably on the armchair with his phone in hand, was thoroughly amused by the spectacle. He had been recording Eliot's frantic movements for the past few minutes, capturing every moment of his cousin's meltdown. "This is pure gold," Noah chuckled, zooming in on Eliot's exasperated expression. "I can't wait to post this on the podcast page."

"Shut up, Noah!" Eliot snapped, though his voice lacked any real malice. He was too consumed by his panic to be genuinely angry.

Izzie, ever the voice of reason, stood beside the open suitcase, trying her best to help. "Eliot, you need to calm down," she said gently. "Panicking isn't going to help. We'll figure out something that looks great."

Eliot sighed, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Izzie, what am I going to do? I can't show up looking like this."

Izzie smiled reassuringly, picking up a navy-blue button-down shirt from the pile. "How about this? It's smart but not too formal. Pair it with some nice jeans and your trainers."

Eliot glanced at the shirt, his anxiety momentarily easing. "You think that'll work?"

"I think it'll be perfect," Izzie said with a nod. She handed him the shirt and then went back to rummaging through the clothes. "Now, let's find those jeans."

As Eliot pulled on the shirt, he couldn't help but glance nervously at the mirror. The fit was good, and the colour suited him. Maybe this wouldn't be a complete disaster after all. He buttoned it up and then reached for a pair of dark jeans Izzie had laid out for him.

"Look at you, all dressed up," Noah teased, still recording. "You're going to knock her off her feet."

Eliot rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "I just want to make a good impression."

"You will," Izzie assured him. "Now, finish getting dressed. We'll help you with the final touches."

Eliot slipped into the jeans, the fabric fitting snugly but comfortably. He laced up his white Nikes, taking a deep breath. With Izzie's help, he added a few final touches—a subtle spritz of cologne, a quick comb through his hair, and a confident smile.

"All set," Izzie declared, stepping back to admire their handiwork. "You look great, Eliot."

"Thanks, guys," Eliot said, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Noah grinned, finally putting his phone down. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Eliot chuckled, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Izzie and Noah called out in unison as Eliot made his way to the elevator.

The ride down to the lobby felt surreal, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through Eliot's veins. He hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the high-profile celebrity bar Taylor had chosen for their date. The city lights blurred past as he stared out the window, his mind racing with anticipation.