The Alchemy

Highway don't care

After my shows in Mexico, I have a two-month break for the release of my album 1989 (Taylor's Version). I am thinking of spending some time off in my apartment in New York. Since the day I told the girls about what happened, Will has taken a step back, like he knew I would be okay. And I am. I don't have nightmares anymore, and although I still have trouble sleeping, I think it will get better.

I am putting my bags on my bed when I hear a knock on my door.

"What can I do for you, Will?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're fine."

"Yeah, I am fine. It's really sweet of you to ask."

He gives a little smile but doesn't move, like he wants to add something. I question him with my eyes.

"Uh, I heard you like to cook. Maybe we can bake something, but we don't have to. I mean, I'd like to, so if you want to or not. I mean... as you want. I'll be in the kitchen if you want to," he says before hurrying into the kitchen.

I smile to myself. It's funny how he can be so sure of himself when he speaks about security stuff, but when he has to talk about anything else, he can't make a full sentence without sputtering. Actually, it really happens only when he's speaking to me. It's not like he talks to many people; most of the time, it's either Tree or me.

I put on a white PJ set with little hearts on it, made of a short and tank top. Then, I join him in the kitchen. He is sitting on a stool in front of the island, looking at a cookbook. He has also changed into some blue sweatpants and a grey shirt. He looks hot. I blush at this thought.

We decide on a new recipe for cookies. Since we are already making a mess in the kitchen, I suggest cooking dinner instead of ordering in like we usually do. So tonight, it's taco night.

We are eating while watching Grey's Anatomy. He has never watched it before, so I put on the first episode. I love that show so much I could watch it over and over again.

"Do you like it?" I ask.

"Wait, I don't understand. Derek is with Meredith but is married to Addison. And Addison cheated on Derek with Derek's best friend?"

"Yep, crazy, right? I love it," I say with a smirk.

We both laugh. I don't know why I feel so safe around him. I mean, he is my bodyguard, but I feel like there is something more.

I am about to stand up to clean the now-empty plates, but he is quicker than I am.

"Don't move, Princess," he winks while taking the plates to the kitchen.

I blush at this nickname. He used it a few times before, mostly to annoy me, but since Mexico, he says it in a more affectionate way.

He comes back with the cookies. I smile as I choose which one I want; they look very good. I wait for him to sit next to me before tasting it. We both bite into it at the same time and spit out almost immediately.

"Oh my God, that's so bad. Why is it so salty?"

"I don't know. I didn't put salt in it. Did you?" I ask.

"Nope, I just put the white sugar and the eggs in the bowl."

"Wait, for the recipe it was only brown sugar, so I didn't take the white one out of the cabinet."

We look at each other as we understand the mistake, and we laugh so much that my stomach hurts.

While he is putting his cookie away, I see a long scar on his left forearm. I never noticed it before because he is always in long-sleeve shirts, but the scar is at least four inches long. I reach for his arm, trying to inspect it closer.

"What happened?" I say, holding his arm in one hand while the other gently brushes the scar.

"Oh, nothing. I was a clumsy kid, that's it," he says, looking at the TV.

"Oh really? Did you fall or something? That looks pretty serious."

He doesn't answer, just looks at me.

"Sorry, I don't know why I lied," he says. "I grew up in a pretty violent household. This was made by the glass of a beer bottle that my father threw at me when I was ten."

I feel my eyes water as I hear his story. He tells me more about how he grew up in a small town, his father an alcoholic, his mother left when he was six, and how he had to raise his little brothers by himself and protect them from his father. When he finishes, his arm is still in my hand, and my head is on his shoulder so he can't see the tears falling while he tells me about his childhood. I don't want to make him uncomfortable as he shares such a traumatic story.

"So that's it," he says. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, that's pretty depressing. I didn't want to ruin the mood."

"No, you didn't ruin anything. Thank you for sharing that with me," I tell him as I brush away my tears.

I feel my hand slowly sliding down his arm to his hand. I intertwine our fingers and rest my head on his shoulder. I feel him press his lips to my head. We don't speak until the end of the episode, just enjoying each other's company.

From then on, we spend almost every night cooking, eating, and talking about life. It just feels easy to speak to him. But we don't have another moment like this. Every time we touch, we pull away quickly and walk off. I think we both know what could happen if we don't keep our distance.