I feel that I finally understand Taylor Swift. Not as a person, but the feeling that she puts into her work. I pull my acoustic from it's case and slip the strap over my head and shoulder in a single motion. I take a breath and play the opening cords of 'Red' by Taylor herself. The lyrics fly from my vocal cords with a fiery passion.
I stand on the same corner of Hollywood, at the same time, with the same guitar, same voice, and the same- unchaging- face, every day. I'm the girl with the classic sob-story life. My mom died the day my twin brother, Dylan, and I were born. She was gone 3 minutes after I was born, Dylan is 4 minutes older than me. My father blamed me, then started abusing me, and, if it weren't for Dylan and Tyler, I'd be alone on the streets right now. I look up at the sky as the sun beats down on my, ghostly pale, face.
I end 'Red' and place my guitar back into it's case. I blink a few times, and pick my ukulele up from the ground. I silently choose between 'Trouble' and 'Happy', both by NeverShoutNever. I choose 'Trouble', it's my favorite. My voice echos off the buildings around me as I belt the lyrics. People pass and drop money in my open guitar case. I flash each one a gentle smile, I don't do this for the money, but it's greatly apperciated.
I close my eyes and lets the lyrics flow from my mouth. I don't stop, my fingers strum into 'I Love You 5' as the sun beats down. I flow thorough 'Happy' and 'All Mine' gracefully. It's not until the end, that I open my eyes to the crowd I've drawn. They all applaud, normal people, record producers and, celebrities alike. I smile, and let a light blush stain my cheeks.
They all drop money and business cards in my case. They all leave, no one expecting more than what was already presented. I look around, and notice a single person lingering behind. I lay my ukulele on the ground and close my guitar into it's case. Judging by the atheltic build that the person seems to show off, the linger-er is a male. He walks over to me and fear stikes in my soul.
"Um, hello?" I say. "You have an amazing voice," my judgement was correct. It is a male. "Thank you," I say, still a little weary. He's slightly taller than me, has a nice jawline, and looks nice in a tank top. "You're welcome," he responds lamely. "What don't I take you for a coffee?" He flashes me a flawless smile. "I would, but my brothers told not to run off with strangers," He chuckles. That laugh, that smile, something about him is throwing me off.
"But, everyone is a little strange," he speaks quietly to me, I melt. I shrug as a response, not much else I can do. "If I knew who you were, then maybe I'd say yes," I say, jokingly. He removes his sunglasses, and hat. My face fades from a smile, to the epitome of shock. "Please don't freak out," he pleads. I relax and my smile returns.
"Relax, I only fangirl on my own time," I joke, his smile returns. "So, about that coffee?" He asks, hope rings in his voice. "Fine," I say, with a fake sigh. I'm acting way to casual, he's going to figure out that I'm trying not to fangirl. He just looks at me, and takes my hand. I swear, I feel a jolt. He just smiles at me, that amazing, flawless smile. 'What did I do to deserve this god among boys paying attention to me?' I think, and return the warmth of his smile.
