CLEAN || Taylor Swift Adoption

NINETEEN

A/N: I'm back!! Thanks for being patient, I've had a lot going on this week, and on top of that, my long-distance best friend hasn't been replying to my texts and I've been really worried about her. I promise y'all things will pick up in a couple of weeks, once the holidays start :)

"Barefoot in the kitchen, sacred new beginnings..."

~EVERLEIGH~

August 6, 2019

"So let's go over the plan again," Taylor said, running her fingers through my hair. "You're going to go out the side door as soon as people start getting off the first bus. Then you'll merge into the crowd with everyone as they gather outside of the house. You'll do all the same stuff you did at the Nashville Secret Session, and then after we're done listening to the album, tell Sydney that you have to go to the bathroom. That'll be your cue to come find me upstairs, and we can debrief and figure out how your social battery is doing, alright?"

I nodded, relaxing into her touch as she gently ran her fingers through my hair, creating two Dutch braids. Normally, I would've done my hair myself, but there was just something about having my hair done by someone else that was so much nicer of a feeling. When Taylor had offered to do my hair for the Session that night, I'd originally nearly turned her down, but I remembered the conversation from the night before and had shut up relatively quickly, giving in. Plus, it was nice to feel like someone cared about me for once.

"Okay, good," Taylor said. "And you know that at any point, if you don't feel well, or you need something, you let me know. Signal to me in the middle of a song, I don't care. But I will do my best to help you."

I bit my lip. I loved Taylor, and I knew that there was a damn good chance that she would be willing to go out of her way to do that for me. But I'd be damned if I was going to let her ruin the Secret Session for all of her fans, especially if it was because of me. She didn't need to do all of that for me, and I wouldn't allow it to happen. I wanted everyone to have such an amazing night, like I'd had when I went to the Session, and no one needed a foster kid getting in the way.

Taylor tied off the end of my braid, gently laying it over my shoulder. "Alright, babe. You look beautiful."

An involuntary smile crossed my face as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a short sleeve burgundy blouse, paired with light-wash denim shorts and the same white Converse that I had worn to the Nashville Session. I'd done my makeup in mostly neutral tones, except for light blue eyeshadow that complimented the color of my shorts. It was nicer than I'd dressed almost any other day in my life, and I couldn't help but smile.

There was something about wearing clothes that were new that made me feel so much more worthwhile than normal. Not only did I rarely get to pick out my own clothes, but the few clothes that I had were all years old—probably from when I was in sixth or seventh grade—and were worn out and had holes in them, and not the sort of holes that complimented an aesthetic. It just made me look worthless. And now, looking at myself in the mirror, with Taylor's hands on my shoulder, I realized that for the first time in my life, I felt like I looked like other girls.

"What's got you all smiley?" Taylor asked, rubbing my back.

"Nothing," I replied, my face flushing red with embarrassment at the thought of telling her the real reason why I felt so happy. "I'm just excited for the Session, that's all."