I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

Colorado I

I LOVE RENEÉ RAPP.

You sigh and pull the hem of your dress further down your exposed thighs.

You uncomfortably shift in your seat in the cab as you near the bar.

When the car stops, and the sounds of the bar are faint and muffled but audible, you sigh again and pull out a twenty to pay him.

As soon as he takes it, you step out of the car, wobbling a bit on your heels.

You'd just moved here, to Colorado, so it's been a long time since you've been out, and you're not really sure how to act. Unfortunately, you talked yourself into this in the mirror earlier, and you can't just turn tail and go home. That would be a betrayal to yourself. No matter how much being here, going out, is already a much bigger betrayal to your trust in yourself.

So you straighten up, adjust your grip on your purse, and walk in.

The first thing you notice is that it's deafeningly loud in here. You're not sure if it's you or if it's the music or the chatter or everything else, but you can't help but feel you'll lose just about half your hearing by the time you walk out of here.

The second thing is that the only place to sit is between a drunk-looking boy who doesn't seem like he should be here and a woman with a melancholic demeanour.

You exhale and walk over to the stool, sitting down and ordering a drink from the bartender. As you wait for your order, you steal a quick glance around the bar. It's dimly lit, with neon signs flickering in the background. The air is thick with a mixture of cigarette smoke and perfume, creating an almost intoxicating atmosphere.

You catch the eye of the woman sitting next to you, and she offers a small smile. "Rough night?" she asks, her voice barely audible above the din of the bar.

You nod, grateful for the brief moment of human connection. "Something like that," you reply, offering a half-hearted smile in return.

The bartender sets your drink down in front of you, and you take a sip, relishing the cool liquid as it slides down your throat. You turn back to the woman beside you.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" you ask, hoping to distract yourself from your own jumbled thoughts.

"Became a regular after my divorce," she says, shrugging.

"Divorce?"

She looks way too young to be a divorceé.

She nods and hums. "He wasn't on the lease, so I at least still have a place to live. And the furnishings that came with the apartment."

"Oh, gosh, that's..."

You don't know how to answer, so you find yourself trailing off and not continuing.

"It's fine," she says, fortunately breaking the awkward silence that had suddenly befallen you. "I'm Taylor, by the way."

"Y/N," you answer, taking another sip of your drink.

Your gaze drifts to her own drink, and you notice she hasn't touched it. Or maybe she has, maybe she's just nursing it very, very slowly.

You gesture towards her untouched drink. "Not feeling it tonight?"

Taylor shakes her head, a hint of sadness flickering in her eyes. "Not really in the mood. Just here for the company, I suppose."

You nod, understanding her sentiment more than you'd like to admit. "I get that," you reply, swirling the ice in your glass around absentmindedly.

The drunk-looking boy beside you suddenly leans over, his breath heavy with alcohol. "Hey, ladies, what's a beautiful pair like you doing in a place like this?" he slurs, his words barely coherent.

You exchange a glance with Taylor, both of you rolling your eyes in unison. "Just trying to have a drink," you reply, hoping to deter him.

But he seems unbothered, leaning in closer. "How about I buy you both another drink?" he offers, a lecherous grin spreading across his face.

You open your mouth to decline, but Taylor beats you to it. "No thanks, we're good," she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The boy grumbles something unintelligible before finally retreating, and you release a sigh of relief. "Thanks," you say to Taylor, grateful for her intervention.

She offers a small smile in return. "No problem. It's a jungle out here."

You chuckle softly. "Tell me about it," you murmur, taking another sip of your drink.