eight. our taylor swift thing

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"YOU SEEM A little out of it today, Dan," Susannah comments as she looks between me and the canvas in front of her. "Something wrong?"

Right after things went bad between me and Jeremiah two years ago, Susannah was the first person I wanted to tell. Because it's Susannah, you know? She doesn't judge and she definitely doesn't berate you for whatever you did. I knew she would understand where I was coming from and guide me through it all, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her.

Even now, after what happened last night with Jeremiah, I find myself wanting to tell Susannah about it. Ask for her opinion and advice, but I can't. I won't.

I force a smile. "I'm just tired from the party."

If she detects any trace of a lie in my statement, she doesn't point it out. She just nods and smiles back at me as she paints me for a few more peaceful moments. Then, she looks up at me and sends me a really suspicious grin. Red flags start going off in my head. This isn't going to be good.

"Hey, why don't you go in and get Jeremiah?"

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at what Susannah just said. "What?"

She raises a brow. "I have this idea. I really want to paint the two of you together. It would be so much fun, don't you think?"

I know what she's doing. Or trying to do at least. This idea she has is to get me and Jeremiah back on good terms. What she doesn't know is that if it really was that easy, I would have tried it a long time ago.

"Susannah, I don't think—"

"C'mon, Dani. Please? For me?"

I sigh. She definitely knows what she's doing.

I get up and she shoots me an appreciative smile before she goes back to brush strokes on the canvas. Jeremiah has been in his room pretty much all day. The only time I saw him was when he was coming back from work. The whole time we were in the same room once he got back, he avoided my eyes. I was confused at first because I didn't remember what had happened between us.

And then I did.

I can't stop myself from thinking about it no matter how badly I want to. I'm still trying to process what happened. It just doesn't make sense. The way he was looking at me last night—I just keep picturing his half-lidded eyes, staring at me with an emotion I can't quite decipher.

But we were both drunk. It didn't mean anything. It's not like anything really happened, anyway. I don't even know what happened.

Climbing up the stairs, I slow down once I reach his door. I exhale softly and then knock twice, holding my breath anxiously as I wait for him to answer. I hear shuffling behind the door before it swings open to reveal a shirtless Jeremiah.

Both of our eyes seem to widen at the same time, his because I haven't been to his room in two years and mine because he's not wearing a shirt and I feel like I'm about to pass out.

"What are you doing here?"

I clear my throat and take a step back as if that's going to help with how fast my heart is beating.

"Susannah asked me to come get you. She wants to paint both of us at the same time."

He furrows his eyebrows and assesses me for a second before he spins around to go back into his room. I think for sure that he's just going to ignore me and go back to whatever it is that he was doing before, but he comes back out with a Taylor Swift shirt from the reputation era.

A shirt that I got for him years ago.

He doesn't even spare me a glance before moving past me down the stairs. I stand frozen in place, blinking repeatedly. What is he playing at here?

𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, jeremiah fisherWhere stories live. Discover now