If You Wanted A Song Written About You... · Taylor Swift [EN]

10 · all the rumours are true

Taylor shivered as she stepped out of the car, tugging the hood of her oversized coat lower over her head. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness as they neared the pub that Zara had talked about, a small student union bar in South Kensington. It was strange, feeling the bite of the cold air on her face after spending so long in the cozy warmth of the manor house they had been hiding in for the past three months.

She glanced over at Zara, who was also bundled up, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck and a black cap over the purple wig she had on. "Are you sure nobody's going to recognise us?" she whispered, voice low and tinged with a hint of anxiety.

The actress chuckled, wrapping an arm around Taylor's waist and drawing her closer. She could feel the tension in her body, the nervousness of being in a public place after months of seclusion. She pulled the hood lower over Taylor's head, making sure it covered her face properly and adjusting the pink synthetic strands.

"Don't worry, love," she said quietly, hand coming down to rub soothing circles on Taylor's hip. "That's why we're wearing the wigs and the coats. We look like completely different people. And in the impossible scenario where things do go south, Rich and Greg are trailing us all the time."

Taylor leaned into her girlfriend's side, drawing some comfort from the solid warmth and the reassuring touch. She knew Zara was right, that they were wearing disguises for a reason, and that their bodyguards were there to watch over them. But still, the idea of being recognised, of having their secluded sanctuary invaded by paparazzi or fans, it was a fear that she couldn't quite shake off.

Earlier that week, the idea was born: going out of the house they had been locked in for the past weeks incognito, and exploring a bit of touristic London. Zara wanted to show the city she grew up in to her girlfriend, through her eyes, and the idea of doing so while anonymous was too much of a temptation to pass up on. So, they had their bodyguards shop for what could only be described as an assortment of overly expensive cheap-looking wigs and thrift shop clothes, and that Friday the couple was on their way to Zara's favourite pub from her uni days to watch a rugby game with some of her closest friends from that time.

"I know," Taylor murmured, her voice a bit shaky. "It's just... hard to let go of my paranoia, I guess."

Zara pressed a soft kiss to the singer's temple, her heart clenching at the hint of fear in her voice. She gave her hip a gentle squeeze, pulling her as close as physically possible.

"I know it's hard," she agreed, her voice gentle. "But you deserve to have some normalcy, even if it's just for a little while. Nobody here is going to recognise us. They're all focused on the match. And I'll be right next to you the whole time. You just enjoy the game and the ale, yeah?"

Taylor took a deep, steadying breath, her heart lightening at the reassurances. She knew the woman was right, that they had taken all necessary precautions, but the fear was a hard habit to shake. She managed a small, shaky smile, leaning into her girlfriend's side.

"Okay," she agreed, her voice a bit steadier. "I trust you. And I know I need to stop being so paranoid. It's just... strange, being out in public after so long."

The Englishwoman nodded, her arm around Taylor's waist firm as they approached the entrance of the pub. It was still early and the place wasn't very crowded yet, which was a relief. She led the American towards a table near the bar, where a small group of people, all women also in their twenties, were already gathered. As they approached, the group looked up, grins breaking out across their faces at the sight of the actress.

"Look who decided to grace us with her presence," a tall brunette exclaimed, her voice full of warm amusement as she rose to greet Zara. Her eyes flicked over to Taylor, who was standing slightly behind her girlfriend, her hood still pulled low over her face. "Cool wigs. And who's your friend?"