"No, I'm not joking. That's what happened," I say, holding the phone at a distance so Ed's voice isn't as loud. I'm telling him about Tanner, since I didn't have time yesterday after a hour and a half conversation with my mom.
It's late, even now. It has to be nearing 11PM and I just got on the phone with Ed. Today was very long, even after Tanner had cooled down enough to not pin me to a wall and threaten me, it was still very tense. He answered my questions but still stuck to the answers Quincy had recited to him.
"Do you need me up there? Because I'll come- I'm not even joking, Taylor. It's one for verbal abuse but he used physicality as well. I'll teach the guy a lesson," Ed rambles on and I laugh at the thought of Ed trying to fight Tanner.
"Ed, that's sweet and all, but we both know Tanner would kill you in a fight," I grin down at my feet that are propped up by the bed. I'm sitting on it, The Last Song sitting at my side, dog-eared on page 212 as it always has been because it was one of my favorite moments, and a old episode of CSI plays in the background. "But thanks for the offer."
Ed was too sweet, and despite being good with words because of studying law and writing music, he was a softy when it came to fighting. I only saw him pull through in one fight and even then, he ended up with a black eye and a busted lip. It was a bar fight when a drunk guy stumbled and ended up grabbing at my butt. Ed had also been a little bit tipsy and didn't hesitate to pursue the accident until they were both slammed into a table.
It's quiet for a second before I hear Ed sigh. "I just don't want him hurting you." His voice cracks.
"I'm a big girl, I'll be fine. Besides, he's still the Tanner we both know somewhere in there, I just have to find him," I sigh.
"Be careful." He says.
"Always am." And then he hangs up and I place my phone next to me on the bed.
Tanner has never been one to hurt someone he cares- or cared -about. The only anger I saw in him back in Cabarrus was either in fights or when something got him really mad. He'd only fight when he had to but when he did, nobody wanted to be near him. If the fight was about me, if someone said something or touched me, you did not want to get near him. The only one he'd talk to after a fight like that was himself. He might ask if I was okay, and then he'd disappear for the day. He had controlled his temper all those years, like he does in front of fans, just to lose it when he's behind the scenes.
He confuses me, but in a way, I can still see the 14 year old boy knocking out his friend just because he made a snide comment about my hair. And that's what keeps me from losing my respect for him.
•
I show up early the next day, probably because I'm anxious. He has a photoshoot with some magazine and I'll be going along, as I'm suppose to for the next few months. The shoot is for Instyle, for the cover. It's to advertise Tanner's upcoming album Breakout, which will be out October 22nd, as I've seen everywhere.
I've heard the singles that have been released and honestly, I can't help thinking they sound awfully familiar to the stuff we use to do. They also match my description when he does mention blonde hair, curls, and blue eyes. Unless Monica has that same combination, it sounds like he's talking about me. Just the thought makes my heart pick up speed.
Speaking of Monica, I'm pretty sure she's stopping by before we leave for the photoshoot judging by Tanner taking his time with getting ready. I sit impatiently in the living room until he comes down, glancing at the door and then to me.
"She not here yet?" He asks, referring more to himself than to me. I act like I'm writing notes down instead of paying attention to him.
"Who?" Even though i know he's talking about.
He frowns at me, as if he's just acknowledging my presence. "Monica."
"Your girlfriend?" I ask, glancing up. I know I shouldn't care that he has a girlfriend but I can't help but feel a bit jealous.
He nods and as if on cue, the door opens to reveal a tall, dirty blonde with leather everything sticking to her body. I'm pretty sure it's a leather romper but who knows.
"Tanny!" She squeals, waddling over in what looks to be 10 inch heels. I have to restrain a laugh at the nickname she gave him.
Without skipping a beat, Tanner pulls her over to him and they start making out. Right in front of me. No, it's cool, it's not like I'm interested in him anyway, right? I mean, she looks like a model, as it is. He can have whatever he wants, it's fine with me, if he wants to make out with his hot, supermodel girlfriend in front of me, it's just fine.
After a few minutes of disgustingly loud noises, they resurface and a couple looks in my direction tell me that Monica was asking who I was.
"Scoop reporter... I use to know her," is what I catch from their conversation.
"Thanks for talking about me. I'm right here!" I call out, still busy organizing my notes accordingly, or more likely pretending to organize my notes accordingly.
"Oh, Taylor! So nice to finally meet you," Monica says in a posh accent that sounds obnoxiously unrealistic.
She extends a hand. "Monica Shapiro."
I recognize that name now! She was on that fashion show week in New York that I happened to see.
"Oh, Victorias Secret model, right?" I ask and she smiles.
"Guilty." She shrugs.
"Nice to meet you too, I'm Taylor Swift," I shake her hand. Tanner approaches behind her, giving her the nessesary space to strewn her arms around his chest.
"So, how do you know Tanny?"
I exchange a quick look with Tanner before glancing away. "Uh, we lived in the same town." I say simply.
"Oh, how sweet! Were you friends?" She gushes, her hand trailing into the open space between his button up and his chest.
I lock eye contact with Tanner. "Yeah. We were best friends."
We stay quiet for a second, as if everything around us had evaporated except Tanner and I. But even then, the contact felt uncomfortable, like we had a common memory but we weren't the same people.
