Taylor Switch

I'm Drunk in the Back of the Car

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know absolutely nothing about Taylor Swift's daily life. Most of this is based on a little research on her routine specifically but mostly conjecture based on looking at what other artists do on tour days and me making up other stuff. If you see something glaringly wrong, let me know and I'll try to rework it. 

I slowly roll over, cursing as I stretch. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but I guess the brain wants what it wants.

My phone buzzes behind me. I groan again and roll over, blearily opening my eyes. As soon as I do, I sit up in shock, all signs of grogginess leaving my body.

I am not in my boring, small bedroom. I am instead in a very large very nice hotel room with black walls and gold fur elise patterned wall paper along the top corner of the room. Was there an echo in this room? How big was this suite? What the fuck was this? What was happening?

I trip over myself trying to get out of the silk sheets and down comforter of the bed, but I recover oddly quickly, standing up taller than I am used to standing, by at least nine inches.

"Whoa," I exhaled in a voice that was not my own.

 Looking down at myself, I see that my arms are not my arms. My tattoos are missing and my skin is at least three shades dark than it's usual stark paleness. Is that blonde hair?

Oh. My. God.

I look around frantically for the immaculate and large black marble tiled bathroom, stopping in shock when I see my reflection.

Taylor Swift was staring back at me. Her beautiful, un-made up face was moving exactly as I was moving. I lifted my arm, she lifted her arm. I brought my hands to my face, so did she.

Holy shit.

"No fucking way," I say, flexing my fingers. Looking down at my body (her body?) that was incredibly lean and strong, I walk steadily into the living room portion of the enormous hotel suite. The curtains are open and in the light of the early morning, I see a great Scottish castle in the background. 

Oh shit. 

Oh shitty shit shit shit.

She was in Scotland for her tour. The Eras tour. For night two of her Scottish leg of the Eras tour.

The leg that I would have to perform because I was in her body.

The cell phone by the bed rang again. I jumped in surprise and rushed over to the bedside table to see a FaceTime request from my own number.

Oh my god, this had to be her.

I answer it and see my own face staring back at me with rage and confusion.

"What the fuck?!" she says, her whispered voice filled with understandable panic. "Who are you?! What happened?!"

"Taylor, look, I have no idea how this happened," I try to say calmly.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU IN MY BODY?!"

I give her a minute to scream before attempting to speak calmly.

"Um, hello Taylor, my name is Emily. Big fan! Love your stuff. I genuinely have no idea how this happened and I would love nothing more than to switch back."

She is flabbergasted. 

"Oh I'm SURE!" she shouts. She takes a second to take a long, steadying inhale. 

"At least tell me that you play guitar and piano."

I chew on my lip.

"Sort of..."