Wildest Dreams - A Taylor Swift Adoption Fanfiction

Chapter 3: Tiny Stranger

The car glides through the rainy streets, the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers filling the silence. I sink back into the plush leather seat, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my knee and the rising panic in my chest. What the fuck am I doing? Getting into a car with a stranger, even a rich and famous one, goes against every survival instinct I have.

Taylor's phone buzzes again and I can't resist sneaking a peek at the screen.

Mom: Honey, are you okay? I just got off the phone with Tree.

Mom: Is the girl okay?? Do you need me to come over?

I snort. Great, now I've got more people involved. This keeps getting better and better.

Taylor glances over at me, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "That's my mom. She's a bit of a worrier."

"Can't imagine why," I mutter, shifting in my seat and wincing as pain shoots through my knee. "It's not like her daughter just picked up a random street rat or anything."

Taylor's smile widens. "I prefer the term 'surprise rescue.'"

I shoot her a glare. "I'm not a puppy."

"No, you're definitely more of a porcupine. All prickly and defensive on the outside, but probably soft and cuddly once you let your guard down."

I flip her off, making her chuckle, and go back to staring out the window.

Taylor sighs, "You know, most people are a little more... intimidated when they meet me."

"Yeah, well, most people probably weren't raised by nuns with rage issues." I shift, wincing as my knee throbs. "Plus, you're wearing cat socks. Hard to be intimidated by someone in cat socks."

"They're limited edition Meredith Grey socks, thank you very much."

"You named your socks?"

"I named my cat. The socks are merch."

"You're so weird," I mutter, but my panic is fading slightly.

The SUV glides into what looks like a private garage, all gleaming concrete and security cameras. Mark pulls into a spot marked 'TS' and I grip the phone tighter, suddenly unsure. Taylor must notice because she makes no move to get out.

"We can stay in the car as long as you need," she says quietly.

My knee screams as I try to stand, but I flinch away when Taylor moves to help.

"I got it," I snap, then wince at my tone. But she just nods, keeping her distance as I hobble toward the elevator. Mark stays by the car, giving us space while still watching the entrance. Professional, like Taylor said.

The elevator is all mirrors and gold trim. I catch glimpses of myself - dirty clothes, tangled hair, dark circles under my eyes. Next to Taylor's designer coat and perfect makeup, I look even more like something the cat dragged in.

We step out into a hallway with only two doors. Taylor unlocks one and gestures for me to go first.

"Holy fucking shit."

The place is massive. Like, literally massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city, artwork that probably costs more than every foster home I've been in combined, a grand piano that looks like it was carved by angels, and-

"Is that a fucking cat tree palace?"

In the corner stands what can only be described as the Taj Mahal of cat furniture. Three stories high, with tunnels and platforms and little curtained areas. A grey cat peers down at us imperiously from the top level.