A Visit

The chubby kid Austin, who had been grinning at Ryan moments before, suddenly turned serious, grinding his teeth as he spat out a few words: "Swift—got a problem with that?"

Judging by his expression, having that surname was like a stain.

Ryan shook his head. He'd heard Taylor mention she had a brother three years younger, but he didn't know the kid went to Hendersonville High too, let alone that he was on the school's football team.

Come to think of it, whatever was going on between him and Taylor's sister had nothing to do with Austin.

"Must be a lot of pressure, huh?" Ryan asked.

"What?"

"Having a superstar sister."

"Oh, yeah, some pressure. Plenty of people in this school envy her, openly or behind her back." Austin muttered, probably having heard his fair share of gossip about Taylor.

That was normal. Ryan didn't need to guess what those words meant—slut-shaming, personal attacks, questioning her talent—the big three.

"Those people are idiots. They don't see how hard she works. The moment she has free time, she's trying to write new songs. When she's busy, I won't see her for a week. To keep up her image, she barely eats anything, and she still walks around grinning like an idiot. But lately, I don't know what's up—ever since she got back from Florida, she's been cranky, like everyone owes her money." Austin rambled, probably having gotten an earful yesterday.

"If anyone dares mess with her, I'll... I'll... I can't let her get bullied." Austin said.

"Absolutely no problem." Ryan nodded.

"What do you think of her?" Austin looked at Ryan, clearly unaware that the guy who went to Florida with Taylor was standing right in front of him, let alone that Ryan and his sister had an unspeakable afternoon.

Ryan said offhandedly, "She's going to be a global superstar."

"Damn right. She's going to be a global superstar, standing on stage, under a thousand spotlights, singing her heart out to tens of thousands of cheering fans. That's been her dream since she was a kid." Austin nodded.

In some parallel timeline, Taylor might have smoothly gotten into an Ivy League finance program, graduated, followed her dad to work on Wall Street, married a man of matching status and looks after a few years, had kids, and eventually chosen to stay home and raise them like her mother did—until one day she saw Faye Hill's live performance on TV, and wondered if she'd ever remember that afternoon years ago, when she first saw her on screen and a dream ignited in her mind...

After training ended, Austin even invited Ryan to his place. Ryan naturally declined, making up an excuse about next time.

"Will you come to training tomorrow?" Austin asked, hopeful.

"Not sure." Ryan said. If Abigail didn't need training tomorrow, she'd be tutoring him.

"Gentlemen, breaking news: Coach is taking tomorrow off. Training's canceled for a day." Paul sidled over.

"Ahem, Ryan, book us a table tonight? We beat our archrivals, and the team hasn't celebrated yet. We're all set—guys' night out, no girlfriends allowed!" Paul hooted like a baboon.

Back in Florida, he was the one who took Ryan and the others to the "Wet T-shirt Party." He'd been injured last game and only played as a sub, contributing nothing on the field, but when it came to where to party, he was always first in line!

"Everyone got IDs?" Ryan asked.

Such a small problem didn't faze Paul: "One per person, ages 18 to 90, fill in whatever you want."

Then Paul looked at Austin beside Ryan: "Wanna join, Boy Scout? Summer camp's got nothing on this. The women there—whoa, they'll spin you dizzy!"

Paul gestured curves with his hands as he spoke.

Ryan immediately elbowed Paul, then told Austin to go home tonight.

"You're allowed to pick up girls at the club, but no one else can even look? Still calling us teammates?" Paul said. Truth was, these parties were Dutch treat—more people meant less money for him.

Austin nodded along: "My sister said I have to join group activities to fit into the team."

Now you listen to her! Ryan thought.

Late at night, a Dodge Challenger cruised through the streets of Nashville's wealthy district.

"You're home." Ryan patted Austin's cheek.

The chubby kid's face was flushed, his head bobbing, a faint smell of alcohol wafting off him.

By the end, he was in a wheelchair, completely out of it. No one else knew where Austin lived, and they couldn't just ditch him at the club. Joel hadn't even shown up for work tonight, so Ryan, who hadn't been drinking, had to drive him back.

"Cut it out!" The drunk kid swatted Ryan's hand away.

Ryan gritted his teeth, got out, opened the other door, helped him out, and hoisted him toward the house.

It was already past midnight. Taylor's house was the only one on the street blazing with lights—the whole family was probably frantic with worry.

Ryan carried Austin into the yard, and the door flew open. He saw Taylor storming out, charging toward them.

Cursing under her breath as she walked: "You bastard."

Seeing she was about to scold her brother, Ryan quickly defended Austin: "No one made him drink too much. Just one glass—only one..."

Taylor swung her hand.

"Slap!"

The crisp sound echoed in the quiet night, startling some German Shepherd nearby into a few barks.

Austin raised a hand to scratch his neck, not feeling a thing.

Because the slap wasn't for him.

At the last second, Ryan twisted sideways. Taylor's palm hit his shoulder. He set Austin down, and the chubby kid flopped onto the ground, falling asleep on the spot.

"Are you done?!" Taylor hissed, her anger squarely aimed at Ryan.

Ryan was about to speak when he heard a voice behind Taylor: "Honey, how can you hit someone?"

Then a plump, well-dressed middle-aged woman stepped out of the house. Taylor's golden hair tips were a perfect match—clearly her mom.

Right behind him came a middle-aged man half a head taller than Ryan, his hair the same brown-black as Austin's—the Taylor siblings' height clearly came from him.

When he caught the smell of alcohol on Austin, the man realized something and moved to help him up; Ryan quickly lent a hand.

"Don't you touch him!" Taylor shouted at once.

"Shut up," her father Scott barked.

"Your father can't carry him alone, and besides, he kindly brought your brother back. Don't be so rude," Taylor's mother Andrea chimed in.

Taylor wanted to argue, but another glare from her father made her sullenly close her mouth.

He's up to no good! Taylor thought.

She kept her lips pressed tight the whole time, standing to the side, frowning as she watched Ryan practically carry her brother into the house by himself, take him straight to his room, and lay him on the bed. A drunk person is naturally heavy, and since Austin was an inch taller than Ryan and on the stocky side, even Ryan was breathing hard after finishing.

"I'll get some water. Look how tired you are, take a rest," Taylor's mother said immediately upon seeing the sweat on Ryan's forehead.

"Mom... it's late, just let him go," Taylor said, directly pulling Ryan toward the door, as if afraid to let him stay in her house a second longer.

But she ran straight into her father. He wore glasses, and his expression was stern now.

"He has to stay. I have questions for him," Taylor's father Scott said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Some readers have already seen Taylor's parents appear in Chapter Three. That night I revised it and decided to expand this storyline, so now this is the first meeting between the protagonist and Taylor's parents.