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Meg Nelson’s life has been fucking weird lately. One month her jerkwad boyfriend is publically dumping her for his literal girl next door, the next she’s comforting the next in his string of ex girlfriends under the school bleachers. And now Meg is lying in said ex girlfriend’s bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the faint strains of music. Come for a sleepover, Taylor had said. It’ll be fun, Taylor had said. Only now Meg was losing out on her beauty sleep in sheets that smell distractingly of Taylor’s perfume and wondering where the real article has gone.
She props herself up on one elbow and peers through the darkness. Taylor is silhouetted against the window, her guitar balanced on her lap. She’s playing very quietly so as not to wake Meg and in this light she must be playing by touch. Something about the idea makes Meg’s toes curl pleasantly.
When Taylor sees her sitting up the music stops.
‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ she whispers.
‘It’s okay,’ Meg says, sitting up and raking a hand through her hair. It’s not fair how good Taylor looks when she’s dishevelled, not when Meg needs half an hour in the bathroom before she feels like she can go outside.
‘What are you playing?’
It’s hard to tell in this light but Taylor might just might be blushing.
‘It’s nothing really...’
‘Can I hear it?’ Meg asks. Then, because Taylor looks hesitant. ‘Play it for me.’
Taylor dithers a bit, looking flustered. Her hands must be okay though, because the music is clear.
‘Are there words?’ Meg asks.
‘T-They’re not ready.’ Meg sits up, leaning forwards.
‘Go on.’ Taylor blushes –either Meg’s eyes are getting used to the dark or Taylor’s so embarrassed she’s actually glowing.
She wears high heels, I wear sneakers
She’s the cheer captain I’m on the bleachers
Taylor breaks off, blushing.
‘You wrote me a song?’ Meg is stunned.
Taylor obviously mistakes her tone because then she’s blushing and putting the guitar away. ‘It’s not a big deal,’ she says. ‘It’s not ready, it might not ever be ready...’
‘No, no, no!’ Meg swings her legs out of bed, the duvet sliding off her bare legs. ‘I like it, I really like it. It’s just, no one’s ever written me a song before at least-’
Except Scott, she thinks.
‘At least, no one who wasn’t trying to get into my pants,’ she says. Taylor squirms and fair enough, Meg’s kicking herself for mentioning Scott. ‘Is there more?’
Taylor shakes her head in silhouette and tries to shove something –sheet music?- out of sight. Meg gets up and wrestles her for it. Taylor’s trying but Meg has half a head on her spends some serious time training. She gets the wad of paper and holds it up to the slither of street lights coming through the gap in the curtains.
Dreaming about the day that she wakes up and finds
That what she’s looking for has been here the whole time.
Oh. So Taylor... Oh. Taylor’s lying under her, looking hopeful and embarrassed.
‘Get up,’ Meg says quietly.
She gets to her feet, not letting go of Taylor’s hand. Taylor’s eyes are very big in the darkness. Meg pushes her onto the bed, closes her eyes for luck, and kisses her –just once- on the lips. Taylor kisses back –barely- and then they’ve broken apart and then Taylor is giving her this faintly star struck look. The silence stretches between them. Well what the hell? Meg thinks and kisses her again.
This time, Taylor kisses back hard.