The Alchemy - A Bodyguard Romance- Taylor Swift

Holy Ground

I wake up under the covers of my bed, smiling at the feeling of finally being home after long months on the road. It must be late because the sky has that light dark blue tone. I pet down the bed, half-asleep, looking for Will beside me, but I find an empty bed. I prop myself up on my elbow and look around the room, but he is nowhere to be found. Was it all a dream?

I get out of bed and put on new pajamas since I woke up wearing nothing. Why was I naked in my bed if it was all a dream? I head downstairs to the kitchen in my blue satin pajamas, a matching shirt, and shorts. I hear someone whistling in the kitchen—it must be Will. I notice he's always singing while cooking.

Indeed, he's chopping carrots, and a pot simmers on the stove. He's wearing only grey jogging pants. He smiles when he notices me looking at him.

"Hey, beautiful, you're awake."

He puts down everything he's doing and comes toward me, placing his hands on either side of my face and kissing me. At first, I don't react, a little surprised, but then I fall into his kiss, putting my hands on top of his.

"What are you cooking?" I ask once we pull apart.

"I'm making boeuf bourguignon. It's a very famous French dish. I also opened a bottle of wine. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

I sit on the island and drink my wine while he cooks. We talk about everything and anything all night long, enjoying each other's company.

"So, how did you become a bodyguard?" I ask, wanting to know more about him.

"Well, I was in the military, but my brother Thomas, the youngest, had some issues with bad people. When I came back, a man knocked on my door looking for him. He owed him money, a lot of money," he explains. "I wanted to help him, so I asked a friend if he had a job for me, and here I am."

"How much money does your brother owe? I might be able to help," I offer.

"No, Princess, I'll never ask you to do that. It's my responsibility anyway," he says, kissing me on my forehead.

-

As we're cleaning the dishes, someone knocks on the door. We both look at each other, panic in our eyes.

"Go put a shirt on. I'll open the door," I tell him, heading to the door.

I make sure I look presentable before opening the door. My mom bursts in.

"Hi honey, how've you been?" she hugs me.

"I'm good, but what are you doing here, Mom?"

"It's been a long time since I came to one of your shows, and I miss you. I just wanted to see my daughter."

"I miss you too, Mom, but you could've called," I tell her.

"Oh, sorry honey, am I interrupting something?" she says, eyeing our almost empty glasses of wine.

"No, no... I'm just very tired. I won't be good company. But I'm happy you're here. Did you eat?" I ask.

"Actually, I didn't."

I lead her to the kitchen and give her a plate of the meal we made and a glass of wine. We talk a little when Will comes back into the kitchen in a more formal outfit.

"Hello, Miss Swift," he greets her.

"Hi Will, it's nice to see you again," she responds. "Taylor, your boeuf bourguignon is really good," she praises.

"Actually, Will cooked it," I blush.

"Well, Will, you did a really good job."

She looks at me with a smirk. I think she knows. She is one of those rare people who can read me like an open book. But she doesn't say anything about it.

"So, Will, you're supposed to protect my daughter, right?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you let her have all these candles in the house?" she points to three candles on the island and the ones in the living room.

"Mom, I have a fire extinguisher. Don't worry," I reassure her.

"Well, I heard that people were getting lung cancer from candles nowadays."

"I didn't know that, ma'am. I'll take care of it," he responds politely. "I suppose you're sleeping here tonight, Miss Swift. I'll go get your room ready."

"You can call me Andrea," she tells him as he's leaving.

We catch up the rest of the evening, talking about the release of a new album I've been working on for a few months now. Will stays in his room, popping his head in from time to time, pretending he needs to grab something or forgot some papers or whatever.

"So, what about the bodyguard?" she catches me off guard as I check out his ass when he leaves.

"What... what about him?" I blush.

"I don't know. He's handsome, nice, helpful, and isn't it a little odd that he's staying at your house even when you're not on tour?"

"Uh, no. He's here to protect me. You know, paparazzi and some fans can be crazy sometimes. And you said handsome. I didn't notice," I lie.

"Sure, honey," she laughs.