yours sincerely, daisy. - taylor swift

18

The drive back to Taylor's place was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Daisy leaned back in the passenger seat, her ankle throbbing slightly but not enough to distract her from the calm that settled over her. The city passed by in a blur of lights, but her attention was on Taylor. Even though her eyes were on the road, there was a certain softness about her—one that Daisy hadn't seen much of before.

"Are you comfortable?" Taylor asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, almost tentative, like she was afraid of breaking the moment.

"Yeah," Daisy replied, her own voice quieter than usual. "I'm good."

The response seemed to settle Taylor, and she reached over, her hand finding Daisy's on the center console. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes—an unspoken reassurance that they were in this together.

The drive to Cornelia Street wasn't long, but by the time they arrived, the quiet between them had grown heavier, like there was too much left unsaid. Taylor pulled into her usual spot and turned off the engine, but neither of them moved to get out.

Daisy stole a glance at Taylor, who was staring straight ahead, her fingers still loosely tangled with Daisy's.

"We're here," Taylor finally said, her voice steady but her eyes not quite meeting Daisy's.

Daisy nodded, slowly letting go of Taylor's hand and reaching for the door. The cool evening air greeted her as she stepped out of the car, leaning a little more on her good leg to keep the weight off her injured ankle.

Taylor was at her side before she could even take a step, one hand gently resting on her back as she helped guide her up the short steps to the front door. Daisy couldn't help but smile at the gesture, even though her ankle was fine enough to walk on now. But the way Taylor's arm lingered around her waist, the closeness of it, made her stomach flip.

Once inside, the familiar warmth of Taylor's apartment washed over Daisy, and she was struck by how much it already felt like a safe space. She hadn't spent that much time here, but there was something about Taylor's home—the cozy yet elegant decor, the lived-in feel—that made Daisy feel like she could relax, like she could let her guard down.

"Let's get you on the couch," Taylor said, her tone more businesslike now as she guided Daisy toward the plush sectional in the living room.

Daisy sat down gingerly, stretching her injured leg out in front of her and adjusting the ice pack she'd been using earlier. Taylor moved around the room with ease, grabbing a blanket and draping it over Daisy's legs without a word.

"You don't have to baby me," Daisy teased, though the fondness in her voice was undeniable.

Taylor shot her a look, her eyebrow raised in challenge. "Who said anything about babying? You're injured, Cox."

"Barely," Daisy protested, though the ache in her ankle begged to differ. "I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"Hmm." Taylor didn't seem convinced. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, a bit of distance between them, though her eyes were focused on Daisy. "I still think you should take it easy. You push yourself too hard on set."

Daisy sighed, sinking further into the couch. "It's part of the job."

"I know," Taylor admitted, her voice softening. "But you don't always have to be so tough, you know? It's okay to take a break."

Daisy glanced at her, surprised by the tenderness in Taylor's tone. She wasn't used to people seeing through her like that. Most of the time, she was the one who put on the brave face, who kept things moving, no matter what. But Taylor's words hit somewhere deeper, and Daisy wasn't sure how to respond.