sweet like honey | taylor swift

Oh god.

The article.

She definitely read it.

A wave of nausea rolled through Dorothea's stomach. She braced herself on a nearby planter, feeling the weight of the situation sink into her. Apparently, she must have sent the wrong draft to James, and apparently James saw nothing wrong with an article going balls-deep into Taylor Swift's history of female friends. But then again, was there anything wrong with that? It's not like she used the word gay. She was certain that James, a proudly gay man with a Pride flag hanging on the back of his desk chair, would have flagged that.

It was just a silly, stupid fluff piece. A brainless soup of words that, if anything, probably said more about her sexuality than Taylor's. Not that she wanted to advertise that. When it came to her own identity, Dorothea was...uncertain. Obviously, she felt attracted to Nick at some level. They'd been together for almost half a decade, for god's sake. But of course there were also those in between periods. They never broke up, per se, but there had definitely been times, mostly while they were in college, when they weren't exactly together, either. As far as what went on during those periods...Well, let's just say there were more important things she had to be thinking about right now.

Like, for instance, why on earth was Taylor Swift actually here?

Dorothea looked over at the Toyota Highlander in front of her car, and all of a sudden it dawned on her why it looked so familiar. It was the same one that had been parked outside the neighbor's house across the street. It had the same corny cat sticker on the back windshield.

"Wait..." Dorothea turned back to look up at her. God, she was tall. She'd always rolled her eyes at publications pointing out the singer's height, as if women weren't capable of such a thing, but now that she looked at her, she understood. The woman made her feel small. Now whether that was due to her height or her looks or her fame was up for debate. Perhaps it was all three.

Dorothea shook her head to herself, as though trying to clear it, and met the singer's blue eyes. "Did you show up at my house?"

Taylor's gaze flickered nervously between her and the car. She then took a step backward and folded her arms, her voice defensive. "Did you write that article?"

"Oh my god." Dorothea looked up and down the street, wondering if anyone else was witnessing this bizarre encounter. She glanced over at the coffee shop and saw two stay-at-home mom-types staring at her from the inside, their coffees hovering precariously near their Botox lips. Fantastic. This is simply super duper absolutely fantastic. She let out a preposterous laugh. "I can't believe this is happening right now."

"That makes two of us," Taylor snapped. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Me?" Dorothea exclaimed, feeling two pairs of eyes land on her as they exited the car in front of the one with the cat sticker. She took a step toward her own car, as if she could somehow make an escape. "How the hell did you even end up here, anyway?" she asked, her voice lowered. "Because look, if you're following me, I can file a harassment case against you. Seriously. I have a kid, for god's sake—"

"Yeah, well I have a personal life too, Dorothea," Taylor interjected. "Did you even bother to think about that? No, of course not. Because to you and all the other people who write shit like that, I'm not a human being."

Dorothea's head was spinning. It might have been due to hearing her name come out of Taylor's mouth so casually, as though they were years-long acquaintances running into each other by chance. But it also could have just been that all she had so far today was half a cup of chai.