I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

It Was Rare, I Was There

Out of the Woods II

"How old are you?"

You glance at Taylor. The fire roaring the hearth dances in her pretty blue eyes as she stares into it.

She's been staying at your cabin for about a fortnight, and you know you said on that first night that she'd

and, much to your surprise, things have been . . . peaceful. She's kept her word, helping around with chores, cooking surprisingly good meals out of the meager supplies you have, and keeping quiet when you need her to. You've grown used to her presence, almost comfortable. Even Sphinx seems happier, curling up in her lap whenever she sits down.

You clear your throat, considering her question. "Twenty-two," you say simply, keeping your eyes on the fire.

Taylor nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're only two years older than me," she murmurs. "Feels like . . . well, it feels like you've lived a lot longer." She turns to look at you, her expression curious, almost admiring. "You're so . . . calm, so in control. I wish I could be like that."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Thanks for calling me old. But it's not calm, it's survival. You learn not to panic when every day could be your last."

"Maybe," Taylor says softly, still looking at you. "But I think there's more to it than that. You didn't have to take me in, but you did. That’s not just survival. That's. . . kindness."

Her words catch you off guard. You're not used to being seen like this, not used to someone looking past the walls you’ve built. You shrug, trying to downplay it. "Don't read too much into it. I just didn't want Sphinx to be lonely," you say with a smirk, nodding toward the cat, now curled up by Taylor's feet.

Taylor laughs, a light, melodic sound that fills the small cabin. "Sure, blame it on the cat," she teases. Her smile fades into a more serious expression as she reaches out, her fingers brushing yours. "But . . . seriously. Thank you. For everything."

You look down at her hand, her touch sending a faint, unfamiliar warmth through you. It's been so long since you've let anyone get this close, and a part of you is scared of what it means, of what it could lead to. But another part, the part that remembers the comfort of your mom's embrace and the feeling of not being alone, wants to let her in.

You swallow, meeting her gaze. "You're welcome," you say quietly, the words feeling heavier, more significant than they should. You don’t pull your hand away.

Taylor's eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world outside the cabin doesn't exist. It's just the two of you, the crackling fire, and the silent understanding passing between you. Slowly, hesitantly, Taylor leans closer. You can feel her breath, warm and soft against your skin, and your heart begins to beat faster, an unsteady rhythm that matches the flickering flames.

"Is this okay?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the fire.

You nod, your throat suddenly dry. "Yeah," you manage to say. "It's okay."

Her lips brush against yours, a tentative, gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. You close your eyes, leaning into the kiss, your hand moving to cup her cheek. The kiss deepens, still soft but filled with a longing that neither of you can deny.

When you finally pull away, your foreheads resting together, you both take a moment to catch your breath. Taylor's fingers are still laced with yours, her other hand resting on your chest, feeling the rapid beat of your heart.

"Thank you," she says again, her voice a hushed, intimate whisper.

You squeeze her hand gently, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Don't mention it," you reply, knowing that in this world, moments like this are rare, precious.