Falling Slowly {{ sweeran }}

Chapter 6

"I'll look back and regret / when I ignored when they said 'run as fast as you can'" - 'Dear John', Taylor Swift.

The next two weeks went by in an ecstatic blur. Taylor couldn't remember the last time she'd had as much fun in the creative process with another artist.
Songwriting never usually took either of them so long, but this one was different. It was special. And maybe they were enjoying the process so much that they didn't want it to end yet.

Of course, management for both of of them were more than happy with the collaboration. At first, Taylor was reluctant to tell them, but soon it became obvious that they couldn't hide their song in Taylor's studio forever.

They were meeting today in a recording studio to let management hear the song. It wasn't ready for recording yet, but perhaps the change of atmosphere would give them some new ideas.
Besides, Taylor and Ed had hardly left her small studio in two weeks. Going outside might do them some good.
Most of the time in Taylor's house, admittedly, was not spent working on the song. No, nothing sexual went on either. She and Ed had become fast friends. It was like they'd known each other all their lives, everything was just so easy.
It didn't take the tabloids too long at all to pick up on this friendship either. After a few innocent Instagram pictures got insanely popular online, before Taylor could close the app her phone was exploding with questions about their relationship.
They had laughed at that, and considered telling them that they had eloped and were expecting a child.
Taylor's management, however, did not find this as funny and instead insisted on telling the truth. That they were friends, collaboration partners.

Taylor was lost in thought on the ride to the studio. She was late, and was very aware of every moment that passed. She cursed her sleeping in this morning.
After what seemed like an age, her driver finally pulled in to the parking lot.
"Sorry about the delay, Ms. Swift." Came his apologetic voice through the window separating them in her private car.
"It's fine, Earl. My fault." She smiled at him and he returned it. "Thank you!" She called to Earl as Nigel opened her door for her.
"Hi, hi, I know I'm late." She said in a rush, running a hand through her hair as she straightened up and shut the car door before someone could do it for her.
"Yes, well, quite alright. Good morning, Taylor." Nigel says breezily, keeping stride with her. She had chosen a simple white romper and ballerina flats that had little cat faces on them, but still stood inches above Nigel.
It was a warm day, the sight Tennessee breeze tousling her blonde hair once more.
"Mr Sheeran is waiting inside." He tons her, and she cursed inwardly, quickening her pace.
Pushing open the heavy double doors, she speed-walked to their booth down the hall, flashing the man at reception a smile on the way.
Outside Studio B, she drew in a breath and pushed the door open.
It was a huge studio, all state of the art equipment and a sleek, modern look. All eyes on the room were on her, including those of Ed Sheeran, looking cute in casual jeans and a Duffers t-shirt.
"Hi! Sorry. I overslept." She said to the room with an embarrassed smile and matching flush in her cheeks. Ed just gave her a bemused smile through the window of the recording booth, paired with a small wave.
"Glad to have you, Ms. Swift. I'm Ed's manager, Heather Wilson." A woman stood up and reached out her hand to shake Taylor's. She shook it and smiled at the woman.
"Great to finally meet you. Please, call me Taylor." She gave the woman a genuine, winning smile.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Nigel placed a hand on the small of Taylor's back and encouraged her toward the studio.

Taylor crossed in to the recording booth to find her guitar waiting for her, along with Ed, perched on a high stool with a guitar on his lap.
"Hello." He said in his thick British accent, eyebrows raised.
"I slept in." She grinned.
Ed mock tisked at her, allowing a laugh.
"Let's start!" Nigel's voice crackled over the speakers.
Ed sighed and met her eyes.
"Showtime." He said as she grabbed her guitar.

***
They loved the song, needless to say. A sweet tale of new love? She could practically see the dollar signs in both agent's eyes.
And so, Taylor and Ed decided to celebrate with a lunch in the hotel where Ed was staying, slipping away from their managers' suggestion of all having lunch together.

It was a beautiful hotel, one of the swankiest in the state. Ed pointed out while striding in to the lobby that it wasn't 'him' at all, and that he kept expecting to be chucked out on his ass very soon.
They were quickly seated by the window overlooking the beautiful hotel garden. Conversation flowed freely between the pair over the meal.
"Taylor, seriously. You can't be enjoying that." Ed nodded at her garden salad. Taylor, midway through a bite, nodded vehemently before swallowing.
"It's amazing! Walnuts, watercress, cranberry and feta equals perfection." She said, taking another bite to make her point.
"I'll tell you what. You can also have the rabbit food that came with mine." He laughed, pointing his fork at the small cluster of salad untouched on the side of his plate.
"Nope. You should eat it. It's good for you!" She encouraged him, rolling her eyes as he chewed a piece of steak with relish.
Amidst the laughter, Taylor almost didn't hear her phone ringing. She exhaled upon seeing it was Nigel and answered, smiling apologetically at Ed before standing up and striding out to the large, empty balcony for some privacy.
The news on the other end wiped the smile off her face.
Biting down hard on her lip, she mumbled a reply to Nigel and hung up, walking fast back to the restaurant.
"I'm sorry, Ed. I..I can't.." She tried to hide it, but she had gone white and her voice wavered.
Ed stood up and wiped his mouth.
"Do you want me to drive you.." He started, before realising he had no car. It didn't matter anyway, Taylor shook her head.
"No. I don't want to be back there. I'm sorry." She repeated in a quiet tone, before crossing the restaurant and holding her head high until she could safely fall apart.