Emmy-award winning and Academy Award winning actress Wrenley James Grant attends the 2016 Met Gala, expecting for it to just be your classic run-of-the-mill Met Gala until she runs into the Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter Taylor Swift. No, li...
A/N: I...I apologize for any emotional turmoil I put you through with this chapter :)
OH! And for those of you who asked, THIS is how I imagined Wren's new tattoo which is a mixture of the vine one (left) with the ivy plants mixed into it (right) :)
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ANYWAYS ENJOY!
Taylor POV
I squeeze out any last dampness from the shower out of my hair with a towel as I walk back into my room. Wren was out on the balcony going for a quick smoke, weed, not cigarettes, but she pulls the nicotine patch off her shoulder before bed. She's been removing it before bed the past few weeks because when she does sleep with it on, she tends to have worse dreams than usual, so she tried sleeping without it and has seen to improve.
She glances over at me as I toss the towel into the basket to wash before we leave tomorrow.
"Are you alright? You've been quiet for the past two hours."
Her hands grab for her phone and my eyes follow her motions for a bit, mind circling through the email I saw, debating on bringing it up right now or not. I rub my lips together and shrug, trying not to meet her eyes, knowing that if I do, I'll spit it right out and I don't know if I want to know the answer just yet.
"I'm okay," I try to brush off, but I know Wren, and I know she's going to want an answer.
"Taylor, what's going on? Did I do something to upset you?"
I of course make the mistake of looking into her eyes, those soft baby blues, darker shades of oceanic waves rocking with worry. Part of me just wants to ignore it, Wren and I spend nearly every single day together aside from days we have to work or have meetings, she doesn't have time to have a full on affair...right?
Plugging my charger into the wall, I press the end of it into my phone's charging port and clear my throat, reverting back to my avoidant nature when it comes to confrontation.
"Everything is allllll good," I click my tongue and mentally slap myself for being so freaking transparent.
Quickly, I sigh and look up at Wren who is now leaning against my dresser, arms folded across her chest.
We just had one of the best days ever with our friends and I know if I bring this up, it'll certainly dampen the mood.
So I shake my head and sigh at her, "I don't want to talk about it right now."
I chew on the inside of my cheek, focusing on the tag of a pillow, tugging it until it rips off while the mattress dips beside me, my girlfriend plopping down. The smell of weed fills my nostrils, a scent that has started to become some sort of comfort for me oddly enough, but my heart is racing, thinking about that large sum of money smirking at me through her phone screen, saying it was received by this Alice Walker person.
