When the pandemic struck like lightning, upending everyone’s daily life, you did what most teenagers did—you downloaded TikTok. It was your senior year of high school, and though you were forced into lockdown with no end in sight, you found a way to keep moving forward. You began posting videos on the platform—covers of your favorite songs, played on your old piano or your battered guitar.

And then, seemingly overnight, your notifications exploded. Likes, comments, reposts, mentions—even a small feature in a local paper. Your cover of “Royals” by Lorde went viral. You kept posting covers, each one gaining more traction than the last, occasionally slipping in an original song of your own. Then you uploaded an acoustic version of “King of My Heart,” and everything changed. Within weeks, universities were reaching out, and so was Taylor herself—offering not only a contract but mentorship.

After years of suffocating monotony, the pandemic finally ended. Taylor went back on tour with her new album, inviting you onstage more than once. And now that you were over eighteen, you said yes without hesitation. But Taylor realized something: beyond the texts, private calls, and those magical shows, she hardly knew you. So during a break in the tour, she invited you to her home—to really spend time together.

You accepted happily, bringing along a dessert you had baked yourself. Taylor welcomed you with food of her own. You ate, you laughed, you played with her cats, and she even let you sneak a few sips of her wine. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose bright and full, you both found yourselves in her small music room. You sat quietly at the piano, letting your fingers wander across the keys—until you felt the warmth of Taylor’s body press gently against your back, her hands sliding over yours, guiding your fingers across the firm ivory notes.