The late afternoon sun hung low over Kansas City, casting a warm, golden hue across the sprawling streets. Taylor Swift sat in the passenger seat of her best friend Abigail Anderson's car, her hand outstretched, fingers grazing the cool breeze as they cruised through the city's outskirts. The world outside was a blur of golden fields and farmhouses, a far cry from the bustling streets of Nashville or the madness of tour life. But here, she was just Taylor—no stadiums, no paparazzi—just a girl hanging out with her best friend, laughing and belting out songs as if they didn't have a care in the world.
"Okay, okay, what's next on the playlist?" Abigail asked, glancing at Taylor with a mischievous glint in her eye. They'd been doing this for hours—just driving and singing, something they hadn't done since they were teenagers.
Taylor grinned, her fingers hovering over the phone screen. "You're not ready for this one."
"Oh, come on! Hit me with it."
The opening chords of *"Larger than life"* blasted through the car, and before Abigail could even react, Taylor was belting out the first verse. Abigail quickly joined in, and soon, both women were laughing and singing as they sped down the highway.
The small towns outside Kansas City rolled by, and the landscape opened into the quiet expanse of Missouri farmland, where they could be alone, away from everything. Taylor always found solace in these drives—away from the spotlight, away from the pressure of constantly being watched. Here, she was just Taylor, the same girl who had grown up dreaming of music with her best friend by her side.
Abigail turned to Taylor during the chorus, her voice loud but off-key. "You know, we should do this more often! Just us, no husbands, no babies—nothing but the open road."
Taylor laughed, the wind tangling her blonde hair as it whipped through the open windows. "Oh, definitely. Though I'm pretty sure Travis would have a heart attack if he knew we were out here with no destination."
Abigail snickered. "He'll live. He's probably too busy tossing a football around right now to even notice."
Taylor's smile softened at the mention of her husband. She pictured Travis Kelce on the practice field, sweat dripping from his brow, laser-focused on drills. He was always so committed, so dedicated, but he had a soft side that few people got to see—a side she cherished deeply. Even though she knew he'd be worried about her, this time out with Abigail was exactly what she needed. Just one afternoon to be carefree, to not think about the pressures of the world.
The music continued to fill the car, shifting from her own hits to a mix of old country tunes, pop songs, and the occasional rock anthem. They drove for what felt like hours, taking turns picking songs and reminiscing about their high school days—about the first time they'd driven around like this in Abigail's old clunker of a car, singing to cassette tapes, dreaming about the future.
As *"Wannabe"* started playing softly in the background, Taylor leaned back into her seat, her mind wandering. "You ever think about how different things would have been if we hadn't chased these crazy dreams of ours?"
Abigail glanced at her with a soft smile. "Nah. We were always meant for this. You were always meant for this."
Taylor smiled, a warmth blooming in her chest, but before she could respond, a strange rustling sound from the backseat cut through the air.
She stiffened, the sound growing louder—a faint but unmistakable hiss.
"Do you hear that?" Taylor asked, lowering the music slightly, her hand instinctively reaching toward her leg.
Abigail's brow furrowed as she glanced in the rearview mirror. "Yeah... what is that?"
The hissing grew louder, more distinct, sending a shiver down Taylor's spine. The playful atmosphere between them suddenly evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of unease.
