Taylor Swift Mother Imagines

Coming Out

Hi :) I did not proofread this.

Age: 15

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I'm sitting in history class right now, not really listening to what the teacher was droning on about. Class only started about fifteen minutes ago and everyone is already bored out of their minds with Mr Johnson's endless grumbling.

I get pulled out of my daydream when I hear a soft knock at the door, Mr Johnson motions for the person to enter the room. The door creaks open, agonisingly slow, and in walks a tall brunette girl, with long wavy hair dressed in a pair of clearly worn jeans and a fluffy striped sweater. She holds a set of books in her arms, a look of nervousness making itself known on her face.

"Ah, you must be the new student, correct?" Asks Mr Johnson, recieving a small nod in response. "Everyone, this is Olivia, she's new here, as I said before. Please be nice, and make her feel welcome. Olivia, you can take a seat right at the back, beside Ms Swift."

He gestures towards the empty seat beside me, in the very back corner, the only free seat in the whole class. She slowly makes her way over to the seat, as she passes a group of boys, a few low whistles can be heard throughout the class, Mr Johnson simply rolls his eyes and turns to continue the lesson.

She takes her seat beside me, placing her books on the table. I turn my head to face her, shooting her a welcoming smile, earning a quite nervous  one in return. I take a moment to take in her features - her eyes, a wonderous mix of hazel browns and emerald greens littered with tiny flecks of golden, her small button nose and cheeks lightly dusted with small, barely visible freckles, her lips look so soft and plump, a perfect shade of pink that makes you wonder whether it's natural or not, the stubborn strands of hair that keep falling in front of her face no matter how many times she tries to tuck them behind her ear. She's by far the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and she's sitting right next to me, staring right back at me.

I've known I like girls for a while now, but I still have yet to come out to anyone, including my mom. I tell her everything, and the guilt of keeping something so big from her for so long is eating me alive every waking moment, but I'm not sure I'm quite ready yet.

"Hi, I'm Olivia, but you can call me Liv if you'd like." She just met me and she's allowing me to call her by a nickname, but maybe everyone calls her that.

"Hi, I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you Liv, does everyone call you that?"

She shakes her head. "No, just family and friends." So she considers me a friend.

"Well I'm glad you've given me that privilege. I'd be happy to stick to the friends and family only restriction, too."

"I'd happy about that aswell. I'm also happy taht I've already made a friend." She grins out, and for a moment, I watch her eyes flick down a little lower for a few seconds. Did she just look at my lips? I send her a warm smile in response, focusing back on  the lesson. I try to steal subtle glances at the beautiful girl beside me, though I have a feeling they didn't go unnoticed by said girl.

The bell rings, indicating the end of the lesson, we gather our books and exit the classroom. As we're walking through the crowded  hallways, i hear Liv speak up from beside me.

"What class do you have next?"

"Uhm, English, I think."

"No way, me too!" She beams, linking her arm with mine, her hand gently rubbing up and down my forearm.

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The next four weeks were some of the best of my life. Everyday was filled with both deep and lighthearted conversations, all of which were just as meaningful as the last. We shared confessions and stories from our childhoods and early teenage years as we got to know one another better. We'd exchanged phone numbers on that first day and have been constantly texting after school and on the weekends. Because I felt so comfortable with her and i trusted her, I told her who my mom was and unlike any of my other friends, she didn't focus on the topic any longer than we should have, and she hasn't brought it up once since. She likes me for me.