Taylor moves towards the dusty armchair in her hotel room. Meredith wriggles over and entwines herself amongst her ankles; rubbing her soft, delicate, gray fur against Taylor's bony ankles adorned with fuzzy Santa socks. It's at times like this when she misses him. She missed his stories about him as a kid, and she misses the way he used to carry her groceries when they were too heavy for her. She missed him.
She flops and sighs into the chair, scrolling through old text messages on her phone. "I miss you, please call me" she reads. She was so strong then, she managed not to call him. She almost did- but she didn't. Her thumb hovers over the contact icon with his name on it "Jake" it reads. Normally she adds a few cute emojis that reminded her of the person. She didn't need to with him. "Jake" reminded her of him enough.
She doesn't even realize, but a single tear rolls down her cheek. Meredith deftly jumps into her lap- stumbling slightly in her gorgeous clumsy way. She nuzzles against Taylor's hand, trying to make her feel better. "I wish you could Mer" Taylor says, "I wish you could make it better." As she stares at the lights that adorn the gorgeous skyline of New York City, she wishes he was her to share it with her. She wishes someone was here to share it with her. "Mer, what's the use in having all of this success if I've got no one to share it with?"
After hours of resisting and saying to herself "You can't get back together. He's not good for you. You know all he is is trouble Taylor, get a grip!" she finally gives in and presses the contact with his name on it. The dialing tone rings, and rings, and rings. "Hello..?" she hears from the other end of the line. "Jake" she breathes "I need to see you."
She puts her hair up in a messy bun, and slaps on red lipstick. It's the first time since that night that she's worn red lipstick. She had no one to impress, no one to admire it the last time she wore it. She brushes away the doubts she's already having, and forces herself out the door onto the strangely silent streets of New York. She arranges to meet him at their favorite Starbucks, "Gosh" she says to no one in particular "They serve the best maple lattes there."
She's crossing the intersection when a gust of wind picks up, and breaks the elastic that holds her wild curls together. The wind whips through her golden locks. She puts a hand up to try and contain the mess that is her hair when a car almost hits her. She looks astonished that someone could run a red light at almost 4am in the morning, until she realizes who it is. It's Jake.
Just seeing his face, his piercing blue eyes, and his sharply defined jawline make her swoon. Colors flash through her mind as she recalls what they once had. Blue, and dark gray. But the one color that stands out so much to her, the color of so many dresses she wore, the color of his sheets, the color of her lips, and the color (she realizes) of their relationship; Red.
He parks the car and walks over to meet her, she runs up to him and they stand nose to nose. "I've missed you" he gushes. "I just need to know Jake" she whispers. "Can you 'know' over coffee, Tay?" he leaves the statement uneasily in the air, waiting for answer from Taylor. Hoping, hoping with every fibre in his being that she'll say yes. And she does.
He buys her a maple latte, and they sit and stare at each other for a long amount of time. Taylor feels like she's paralyzed, she wants to be her old self but she's lost it. She thinks that talking to him, and asking him questions will help her try to find it. It won't. It doesn't help that he's dressed in that god awful plaid shirt that she wore so many times on the mornings after. He's also wearing her scarf, that one that he forgot to mail back.
"Listen Swiftie, I've got so much to apologize for" he says in a low voice after a long time. "I'm sorry I didn't come..I...I got really drunk an-" he stops in the middle of his sentence, seeing the hurt in her eyes. "You should've been there Jake." He looks down and fiddles with the buttons on his flannel, she stares intently into his eyes which he conveniently averts to the floor. He looks up and says, "I love you" she says "I love you doesn't count after goodbye."
He begins to cry, it's rare. It's so rare to see him show emotion, especially towards her. She's not angry though, she knows it's her fault. She knew he was bad news when he came towards her, but she couldn't stop twirling, showing off as he fawned over her every movement. She missed his mom, she missed his sister, and she missed the stories about him as a kid- the glasses, and the T-Ball team fails that made her chuckle every time his mom told them. She doesn't miss him though. That magic, that spark, that connection is gone. She misses the memories, but not him. Strangely she can't process it. She can't deal with the fact that she can't be with him anymore. None of her friends have picked up on it though. Not Selena, Diana, or Emma. She might be ok, but she isn't fine. She's not fine at all.
Seeing him cry transports her to one of her favorite memories of him. They're making burritos in the middle of the night, the fridge is the only light that wafts over their bare bodies. She begins to laugh, and he gets her to dance. She doesn't dance, but that night she did. Just as quickly as that memory washed over her, another took it's place. It was of him calling her, breaking it off. Breaking every last promise he ever made. He said he had to be harsh to be truthful. She felt like a crumpled, ripped, piece of paper tossed in the corner.
She looks into his eyes, seeing past the amazing memories, seeing past his amazing family. She sees a little boy, who ran scared from her when she needed him the most. She can only see how bad he was for her, how he hurt her. How he made her hate herself. How she never wore heels because it made him feel insecure. He had a way of roping her in after he repeatedly ruined the masterpiece that could have been their relationship. But not this time, she almost did this time. But then she didn't. "Goodbye Jake" she utters, as she walks out of the doors. All of the hurt, the scars, the damage he caused. She sees it now, and she remembers it. All too well.