Brooklyn - Taylor Swift

Part 6

What in the bloody hell is that beeping, and why is it waking me up from the best sleep I have had in months? 

Better question. 

Why is my bed so hard this morning? Like seriously, my back is in half.

I know it's not my alarm going off because I straight up don't use them. I'm either awake by myself, or Lanie calls me a bunch of times, but that is not the sound of her ringtone, so I have no clue what the noise is.

I go to move, blindly reaching for the offensive device that is waking me up. Still, something is stopping me from moving, which has my eyes shooting open. 

A sea of blonde covers my eyes, and for a second, I think it is my own hair as I reach to push it off my face, only to remember my hair is still short as hell since I buzzed it all off less than a month ago. No, the hair on my face belongs to the person who is practically on top of me. Which has me wracking my brain as I try to remember whom it could possibly belong to. 

I swear we came home after the concert, so I don't think I hooked up with anyone. So, the question is, who is in my bed? Wait, I'm not in my bed, that much I am sure of. 

New questions. Who is on top of me? And where am I?

The ringing that woke me up the first time starts again, and I blindly grab the phone off the table beside me, answering it with a grunt. "Miss Swift, we are outside Nickels' property, and the plane is waiting," the voice speaks, making me realise I picked up the wrong phone, ops. "Miss Swift?" The voice repeats as I pull the phone away from my ear to see that Greg is calling. "Hi Greg, good morning. Taylor is still asleep. This is Andy; we are running a little late. Give us like twenty minutes, and we will be ready. Feel free to come in; I will let you in and make you some coffee if you like. We have like no food, but I can give you a protein bar to munch on if you fancy; I know Joey likes that sort of thing," I tell the man, trying and failing to get out from under Taylor; my God, does she have an iron grip or what? 

"That is very kind of you, Miss Nickels, but I will wait out here for you all. Could you also let Miss Gomez know that Hank is here for her, too, please?" Greg requested, which had me humming. "I can do that. If you change your mind, just come knock on the door, and I'll let you in. Oh, and Greg? Please call me Andy or A or anything but Miss Nickels. It makes me feel like I'm in like my forties or something," I lightly groan, which earns me a barely audible chuckle from the bodyguard as he says his goodbyes and hangs up.

Looking down at Taylor, I almost didn't want to wake her, she seemed so peaceful, but I figured she could sleep on the flight. A flight we will miss if I don't wake her up right now. "Taylor," I whisper into her hair softly, getting nothing in return. It takes repeating her name five times and a poke to the cheek. Eventually, she starts to stir, groaning as she somehow becomes even closer to me, which I didn't think was possible, yet here we are. "Taylor, Greg is outside waiting for you," I whisper again, which seems to be enough to snap the singer awake, who practically jumps off me as she just stares at me, clearly as disorientated as I was this morning.

"How did we end up on the floor?" She groans, rubbing her eyes as she looks around the room, the others all still sleeping. "Teddy's cheap arse wine, that's how. God, that stuff we so gross I don't know why any of us kept drinking it," I wince slightly at the memory of the taste, Taylor doing the same as she shakes her head with a smile on her lips.

"My room is upstairs, third door on the left. Feel free to raid my wardrobe and wear whatever you like. Spare toothbrushes are under the sink, and you are welcome to shower if you want; use anything you need," I tell Taylor, watching as she looks at me, slightly confused, before nodding, sneaking past the others who are all still asleep and making her way upstairs.