THE AFTER

NINETEEN

She likes my American smile
Like a child when our eyes meet!

————

December 22nd, 2020 - Chelsea, New York City

"Why do I feel like I'm being undressed?"

"Sorry," Dorothea muttered. Her eyes remained on the singer's legs while the blonde massaged them with lotion. "Seems like the Easter Egg was a success, hm?" she mentioned.

"I think so," Taylor agreed, flashing a small smile. She added hesitantly, "Well, judging by their reactions, and the fact that they're still coming in almost seven hours after I posted it. I honestly expected them to freak out a little, but not this much."

"It's been almost three years since you put out a record, Babe, of course they're excited!" Dorothea grinned, crawling across the bed and wrapping her arms around the blonde. "I'm so happy for you, she hummed against her neck.

Taylor bent her head so it was resting against the other woman's. She began tracing the other pair of hands laced around her, zigzagging up and down each finger with her own. Her expression seemed distant.

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

"I want your honest opinion,"

Dorothea's arms fell, resting loosely around the older woman's waist. As she tilted her head to look at her, she said lightly, "What's on your mind?"

Taylor hesitated, but it only took a moment for the words to tumble out of her like loose change. "Do you really think the record will do well?" she worried, "I mean, in comparison to the other albums. Like, I know I'm not supposed to care if it hits Number One on Billboard—"

"Correct, because it literally doesn't matter."

"But..."

"But what?"

"But...I don't know," Taylor faltered, her eyes dropping to the other woman's hands around her. It didn't seem like she was going to continue, but then she breathed in sharply, "I guess it still does matter to me. For whatever reason, I still care about that stupid chart and the critics and all of the other ratings because..."

Dorothea found the singer's hand and laced it with her own. The woman seemed to be in another place far away from their Manhattan bedroom. It was rare for her to see this side of Taylor. The only other time she could distinctly remember it was when they were in the car at the lookout point in Beverly Hills, bleary-eyed and eating peanut butter cup ice cream. Normally, the singer kept her fears close to herself, unlike Dorothea, who didn't seem to have a filter for that sort of thing.

Dorothea suddenly looked up as she felt a droplet hit her leg. Her frown deepened at the blonde wiping her eyes. "Babe? Hey, hey..." she whispered, reaching her arms around her again, "It's okay..."

"I just don't know why I can't stop caring about it," she muttered, her breathing shaky. "Like, why do I even care? Rep was supposed to be the turning point. That record was supposed to be the one that I officially said, 'From here on until my career ends, I don't give a single fuck what anyone thinks of me'."

"Are you saying you don't think you achieved that?" Dorothea asked. She shook her head to herself, adding, "Babe, Rep was the turning point."

"But then why does it feel like I'm back to where I started?" Taylor said, her voice breaking.

"Babe..." Dorothea shook her head again, struggling to understand. "I had no idea you've been so stressed about this. Why didn't you tell me?"