D Y I N G | Taylor Swift • Kaylor

Chapter eight

At some point in the evening, Taylor finds her tea subtly replaced by wine, while Karlie - still nursing and therefore stuck with her water - suggests moving to the couch instead.

The living room feels different.

Maybe it's the alcohol cursing through Taylor's bloodstream, or maybe it's simply the ease of conversation that flows more freely now. Perhaps it's both - one thing that lead to the other.

Either way, the atmosphere has shifted.

Karlie, ever considerate, settles at the far end of the couch, leaving a respectful space between them. Taylor, wrapped in one of Karlie's blankets, absentmindedly sips her Merlot as she flips through the small stack of books on the coffee table. It surprises her. The Karlie she knew didn't seem like much of a reader. But then again, who was the Karlie she knew anyway?

'Did you read them all?' She asks, picking up a copy of Tipping the Velvet. Karlie glances over, her lips curling into a soft smile. 'I haven't read all of them,' she says 'but I've made it through most. Tipping the Velvet is... intense, but in a good way. I couldn't put it down.'

Taylor traces the spine of the book, running her fingers lightly over the cover. 'I've heard about it. Guess I should finally give it a try.' She sets it back down, picking up another one. 'Fun home?' She raises an eyebrow. 'I remember the musical.'

'Oh, the book's even better. It's darker, more introspective. You'd love it. You'd love the other one too, actually.'

'I'd enjoy them fore sure, especially because of the... themes.'

Karlie watches Taylor for a moment, her smile lingering. 'Yeah, the themes are kind of hard to ignore. I remember reading them and thinking, 'Wow, that is so raw.' They get right into the messy parts of family and identity.'

Taylor nods slowly, flipping through the first pages. 'I think I was too distracted by the melodic performances when I saw the show to really catch all the layers.'

'The book digs deeper. You'd appreciate it more.'

Taylor places the book on the pile. 'Maybe I will. I've been avoiding reading stuff like this.'

Karlie's brows furrow slightly. 'Why's that?'

Yeah, why's that?

Is it because it reminds her too much of that part within her that took her the longest to accept? Or is it because she sees her younger self in all of these fractured women who fight daily against a sexuality in their bodies that their mind isn't ready for? Or perhaps, is it the quiet yearning - to be like them, to be able to embrace her love as fully as the women at the end of these stories can?

Taylor takes a breath, swirling her wine in her glass, avoiding Karlie's eyes. 'I guess I'm not ready to face those truths.' She bites her tongue. 'Makes me think about things I've been trying not to think about,' she admits quietly.

Taylor can feel Karlie's gaze on her, but she doesn't say more. Instead, Taylor senses the slight shift in the cushions as Karlie slowly scoots closer. Only a tiny bit - just enough for her hand to reach Taylor's. The touch is gentle, intimate. Neither of them speaks, and again, Karlie interprets Taylor's silence with discomfort, withdrawing her hand.

'Sorry,' Karlie whispers, but Taylor doesn't need her apology - not for that.

It's alright, don't worry. Is what Taylor wants to say. She can't.

And Karlie doesn't push. She simply sits there, closer than before, her presence grounding, waiting. But nothing comes, and she can't expect anything, she knows it. Not from Taylor. Not today. Not like this.