Chapter 3
“You know,” said Matty, breathing heavily as they rounded the final corner towards Taylor’s townhouse, two more blocks and they would be there. “When you said ‘do you want to walk back towards my apartment’ you didn’t mention that it was a four and a half mile walk that would take us almost two hours.”
“It wouldn’t have taken two hours if you walked at a normal pace,” Taylor sniped, tossing a hand out in front of Matty, hitting him square in the chest, so that he didn’t walk into oncoming traffic. She could feel how heavily he was breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly against her hand, his heart beating a mile a minute.
“Not all of us are giants,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that Taylor had just saved his life in favor of falling back to his previous argument. “I have little legs.”
Taylor rolled her eyes, despite having listened to him complain for the last two hours, he still managed to get under her skin. She would have thought she would have developed an immunity by now. Wasn’t that how exposure therapy worked?
“Maybe you should quit smoking,” she said cruelly, “you sound like Olivia coughing up a hairball.”
“Or maybe, I have asthma and have been running after you for the past four miles.” Matty quipped between pants.
“If you had been running after me, it wouldn’t have taken two hours.” Taylor snapped back, “plus, if you have asthma then you should really quit smoking.”
Matty groaned dramatically. “I don’t have asthma,” he admitted. “I’m just English.”
“I don’t think that has anything to do with it,” Taylor said diplomatically. As expected there were paparazzi camped out across the street. She plastered on a cheerful smile and glanced coyly over her shoulder at Matty. He looked sweaty and disheveled, his hair tangled from where he had been running his fingers through his curls. “We made it.” She said cheerfully.
“Oh thank god-” Matty groaned again. “Bloody hell, I have to do stairs now?” he whined, looking sadly at the steps leading up to the townhouse.
“How the hell do you flail about on stage for an hour and a half every night?” Taylor asked, only half joking. She had seen him do it, and knew from the breathless quality that his voice had taken on at various points, he had been singing live.
“Loads and loads of cocaine,” Matty said bluntly. Taylor wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. She made the executive decision that it was better not to know and ignored his comment as she typed in the code to unlock the lobby door.
“If we take the elevator will you stop complaining?” Taylor asked, making sure to shut the door behind Matty.
“You usually take the stairs?!” He asked in horror and Taylor snorted in amusement at his outrage. She pressed the button to call the elevator, the doors opening a moment later.
Taylor’s phone vibrated and she pulled it out, seeing another text from Tree instructing her to post a picture of her lunch on instagram, and to make sure she got at least part of Matty in the background, just not his face because they were being coy.
“Oh dear lord,” Matty exclaimed as the elevator doors shut, distracting Taylor from her response. He was looking at his phone in horror, the same way he had the stairs. “Now your publicist is texting me.”
Taylor froze, wondering what Tree could possibly have to say to Matty. They were playing their roles well, right? They looked smitten in the pictures she had sent her from Twitter, and quickly sent a “sounds good” back to Tree.
“What did she say?” Taylor asked as they rode to the penthouse, trying and failing to be nonchalant. She felt like she was in trouble, like an elementary school kid waiting outside the principal's office, but not sure what she had done wrong. Which was silly she knew, she was twenty four years old, soon to be twenty five, and she paid Tree. Tree worked for her. The first piece of the puzzle she had hired on her own, for herself, as she slowly, and methodically detangled herself from Big Machine Records.
“She wants to know if I prefer pizza or a salad? The fuck kind of question is that, who in their right mind would pick a salad over pizza, we’re in fucking New York,” Matty muttered, not looking up from his phone as he typed out his response.
Taylor exhaled slowly, letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “She’s ordering us a late lunch.”
The doors to the elevator opened but Matty said where he was, blinking owlishly. “What?” He asked.
“She’s having lunch delivered,” Taylor said, pushing past him to enter her home. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Come on, Tree wants a picture of you with the ladies.” Tree had said no such thing, but as someone that had admitted to not liking cats, torturing him would amuse her.
“I don’t know,” said Matty, “my text just asked what I wanted for lunch.”
Taylor took off her jacket and hung it on the coat tree by the door, Matty doing the same. She slipped off her ankle boots and lined them up neatly against the wall, smiling in surprise when Matty did as well. His socks were bright blue with cartoon frogs on them. She smiled, looking down at her own kitty-corn socks.
“Greg will bring our food up when it gets here,” Taylor said, trying to fill the silence as Matty looked around her home with interest. “What?” She asked, shifting uncomfortably.
Matty just shrugged, he was wearing a soft looking black sweater. Upon closer inspection Taylor was pretty sure she had the same one in her closet. “Just not what I expected, is all, it’s nice.”
“What did you expect?” She asked, not sure where he was going with his line of reasoning. Her newly renovated New York home was her sanctuary, featuring high ceilings and rich color tones.
He shrugged again. “I’m not sure- but aren’t you going to give me a tour?” His eyes flashed, he was teasing her about something, but she was missing out on the joke.
“Right this way,” she said, leading him out of the entryway. “This is the living room,” she said, gesturing to the open space that she had fallen in love with, one of her acoustic guitars was currently laying on the couch. A baby grand piano was in the corner, one of her favorite purchases.
“And here is the kitchen,” she said, “do you want anything to drink?”
The corner of Matty’s mouth turned up in amusement. “Do you have wine?” Taylor knew he was joking, but something about the way he always seemed to have the upper hand was making her feel crazy.
“White or red?” She asked, opening the cabinet to pull down two wine glasses.
Matty blinked, clearly not expecting her to play along. Good, she thought, she was throwing him off kilter now.
“Ah, red please.” He said, “preferably a Malbec if you have it.”
“Coming right up,” she said, pulling a bottle off the wine rack and quickly uncorking it. Not bothering to let it breath, she didn’t think either of them knew enough about wine for it to matter, she served them each a healthy pour. She handed one of the glasses to Matty who set it down on the counter.
“Do you mind if I run to the toilet first?” He asked and Taylor directed him to the half bath off of the kitchen. He gave her a mock salute before disappearing down the hall. Taylor sighed and took a sip of her wine. It was decent, even if she typically didn’t drink Malbec. It was just dumb luck that she had a bottle left over from a previous gathering. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her back pocket with a sigh, wondering what Tree wanted her to do now.
She frowned when she saw Karlie’s name on the screen, hating the way her first instinct was to smile, hating the way her heart rate sped up in anticipation. She was mad at her. Karlie had broken up with her. She wasn’t supposed to be excited about her text. She swiped the screen, taking another gulp of wine for courage as her palms began to sweat.
It was a link to a Tweet with the pictures of her and Matty in Central Park, their heads pressed close together. Matty had been fucking with her, whispering in her ear, testing his boundaries and being the brat that he claimed he was. But he also could have been kissing her neck.
“Seems like you moved on fast.” Karlie said. Anger flared in her chest. The audacity.
“You said you wanted to be just friends.” She typed back with gritted teeth. She thought of the pictures Karlie had posted with Josh that morning. She wondered if she even realized she was being a hypocrite.
“I do want to be friends.” Karlie sent back. “I just didn’t expect you to move on so fast.”
Taylor bit her lip, trying to decide the best way to respond. She was stuck somewhere between “Fuck you bitch” and “I love you can we try again.”
“Why are you making that face?” Matty asked, reappearing in the kitchen, rubbing at his nose absentmindedly with the sleeve of his sweater. Taylor flinched at the sound of his voice, she hadn’t heard him approach.
“Jesus, do I need to put a bell on you?” she asked only half joking.
Matty shrugged and picked up his wine glass, and took a sip. “Years of practice sneaking out of the house.” He said, “took me ‘til I was nineteen to realize Mum was so coked out all the time she didn’t care when I came and went, or that I was too.”
“So what you’re saying is you do need a bell,” she said, not ready to touch Matty’s blunt honesty with a ten foot pole.
“Well, regardless, that’s not why you’re making that face.” Matty said and Taylor sighed.
“Karlie just texted me.” Taylor said and Matty frowned.
“Your girlfriend?” He asked, he hadn’t been fully paying attention in the meeting they had that morning.
“Ex girlfriend,” Taylor clarified. “She wants to be just friends but is also accusing me of moving on too quickly?”
“Well,” said Matty, fighting back a smile. “She did dump you this morning.”
Taylor groaned and poured them each more wine. “Yeah, but after nearly two years you’d think she’d realize this was a PR thing, to protect her I might add.”
“What do you mean?” Matty asked and Taylor squinted at him. He seemed more relaxed than on their walk, she wondered if he was getting more comfortable with her or if it was the lack of cameras.
“Karlie isn’t out, isn’t ready to come out, her family is really conservative and traditional, and she doesn’t think they’d take it well.” Taylor explained. “And we were drinking and got a little handsy at your show last night.”
Matty snorted. “Conservative? Isn’t she literally a lingerie model?”
Taylor flushed, “that’s besides the point.”
He laughed, “that’s your type isn’t it? Lingerie models? God, you have the same taste as a thirteen year old boy.” Matty snickered, “I actually think my thirteen year old brother might have a picture of your bird in the secret shoe box he thinks we don’t know about.”
“Shut up,” Taylor said, her cheeks scarlet. “Like you wouldn’t fuck a lingerie model if given the chance.”
“Are you forgetting the part where I have a George?” Matty asked.
“You’re saying you don’t go both ways?” She asked, thinking of all their lyrics about women. She herself might lean more towards women, but she was still attracted to men.
“I’m saying I’ve been in love with the same guy since I was fifteen.” Matty said with a shrug. Surprisingly Taylor with how candid he was being. “Never really considered anyone else. It’s just him.”
Taylor opened another bottle of wine, this one a cab. Things were feeling too heavy. She refilled both their glasses.
Matty shot her a shit eating grin. “Though, if I didn’t have George I probably would want to fuck a lingerie model.” He paused, “your ex is mad fit.”
Taylor groaned and took a large sip of her wine. She hoped lunch would arrive soon. The wine was going to her head, and based on the slight flush to Matty’s cheeks she was willing to bet it was getting to him as well.
“Did you respond to her text?” Matty asked, sensing that Taylor was looking to shift the subject.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, which pained her greatly. She prided herself on being a writer.
“Tell her I slid into your DM’s after you went to our gig in November, that we had been chatting as friends but that I decided to shoot my shot this morning and you said yes.” Matty said. “She broke up with you, she can’t be angry that I was waiting on the sidelines.”
Taylor snorted. “There is no way she’d buy that.” She said, “I always told her everything, no way she’d believe that we had been talking for a month and I hadn’t mentioned it.” Taylor flushed, and not just from the wine. “Especially since like, y’all are one of my favorite bands.”
Matty batted his eyelashes and put a hand on his chest. “We’re one of your favorite bands?” He teased dramatically and Taylor rolled her eyes, tossing the foil from the cork at him causing him to giggle.
“Fuck off,” she whinned, taking another swallow from her glass. “I literally came to two of your shows, and I paid for those tickets, I didn’t even have Tree get them for me.”
“Oh my gosh, the great millionaire popstar Taylor Fucking Swift paid sixty dollars for a concert ticket on Ticketmaster, alert the press,” he paused, “I think you’re good for it love,” said Matty finishing the last of his glass and reaching across the counter to pour himself more.
“Hey, that was sixty dollars a ticket plus nearly fifteen dollars in fees!” Taylor paused, “AND I bought a tee shirt.”
“That I would love to see,” said Matty with a smirk. “Taylor Fucking Swift wearing my merch.”
“I actually got a tank top, it’s in LA but I’ll make sure to pull it out just for you,” said Taylor smirking. “Though, does that mean you’re going to wear mine too?”
“I spend all my money on cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol, I can’t afford your merch prices.” Matty said cheerfully. “Your tee shirts cost more than my band's tickets- including those Ticketmaster fees.” He pulled out one of Taylor’s barstools and made himself comfortable, it seemed like they were going to be here a while.
Taylor tapped on her chin with a manicured finger, pretending to be deep in thought. “I think I’d like it if my “boyfriend” wore my face on his chest,” she said after a moment, putting air quotes around “boyfriend” causing Matty to laugh.
“You lesbians really do move fast,” he said with a chuckle, “putting a label on it already.”
Taylor just shrugged, and looked back down at her phone with a groan.
“I can’t leave her on read,” she said, “I just don’t know what to say.”
“You know,” said Matty, flashing her a wine stained smile, “you could also do this absolutely wild thing, and tell her the truth.”
Taylor thought of the pictures Karlie had been so quick to post of her and Josh, of the way Tree had always been cautious of her. She had thought it was because of the potential fall out if their relationship was discovered, but if she was orchestrating a relationship with Matty, who was objectively a more controversial figure, maybe it wasn’t that.
“Yeah,” said Taylor, “I don’t want to do that.”
She pulled out her phone. “He texted me this morning and asked if I wanted to get coffee, you said you just wanted to be friends, so I figured I’d see where it went.” She typed.
“You should add that ‘Matty is really cool and hot and wouldn’t be parading around with some twat on instagram less than 12 hours after we broke up,’” he chirped, having gotten up off the stool to look over Taylor’s shoulder.
Taylor snorted. “There are pictures of us parading around Central Park all over Twitter.”
“Yes love, but, we didn’t post those, and therein lies the difference.” Matty said, “she was actively trying to hurt you, meanwhile, you’re the most famous woman in the world, who happened to be caught going on a walk with the son of a C list actress turned indie musician.”
“I guess,” said Taylor, she was saved from having to elaborate further by the sound of the buzzer echoing through the kitchen. Their lunch had arrived. “Foods here,” she said, pushing past Matty who had boxed her in by the counter when he had been trying to see her phone.
He was easy to maneuver, she thought, a tad shorter than herself and waif thin, his clavicle jutting out sharply from the collar of his sweater that dipped down further when he moved, teasing the edge of the tattoo he had across the center of his chest. Despite the way he kept pulling his sleeves down over his hands, Taylor could tell his wrists were delicate, the bump of bone protruding among the bracelets he wore. He probably also wore a smaller jean size than she did she thought ruefully, meeting Greg at the door to collect her salad and Matty’s pizza. Because of course, he was a man and could eat pizza and drink his meager body weight in wine and sustain himself on Starbucks brownies, and still look like that while she lived off of dry salad and Diet Coke.
“Thanks love,” said Matty, having retaken a seat at the counter while Taylor was gone, accepting the box containing his personal sized pizza. If he was disappointed that it was prosciutto and arugula instead of greasy dripping street pizza, he didn’t show it. Taylor sat her own salad on the counter and removed the lid from the plastic container. She added a quick drizzle of the included balsamic vinaigrette across the greens, since she needed to take a picture of it for Tree. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, the nearly a full bottle of wine she had consumed while bantering with Matty giving her a headache.
She snapped the photo, Matty’s delicately tattooed wrist clearly in the shot. Taylor couldn’t help but wonder what the string of numbers meant.
“Did you just take a picture of your salad?” Matty asked, frowning.
Taylor nodded, “Tree wants me to post a picture of it on Instagram with you in the background.”
Matty blinked. “You just took a picture of your salad, and posted it on the internet.”
Taylor just sighed, and realized she hadn’t introduced Matty to Olivia and Meredith.