48 - like you're on a late-night show

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SKYLAR

Red, yellow, green, blue, pink, and back to red again. I watched the mini light bulbs on the string lights on my desk light up the room with a new color every other second as I sat on the bed with my phone pressed to my ear. Connor and I were talking, and I had just told him about my date with Josh.

"I have to take you there when you come and visit. Their desserts were to die for," I gushed excitedly.

"Yeah," Connor said and paused in a way that made me think he wanted to say something else. "But... I thought you liked girls?" His unexpected question made me snort as I tried to restrain myself from laughing.

"I never said I liked him," I countered but kept smiling. "But I can like both, y'know."

"Do you?"

"Like both girls and guys?" I asked.

"Like him?"

I was quiet for a moment and then admitted something I hadn't told anyone else, "Connor... I think I might be in love with him."

It took him a few seconds to say something, and I had to check that I hadn't accidentally muted myself or ended the call.

"What?"

I could tell from the way he stated the question so flatly that he didn't believe me.

"I don't know. Every time he smiles or even looks at me, I feel, like, a million butterflies in my stomach. He's got the cutest smile, and he's even got a car!" I smiled widely and twirled one of the drawstrings on my hoodie around my finger.

"I know dozens of sixteen-year-olds with cars, that's not a reason to love him. You can't already be in love with him, Skye. You've only been on one date with the guy. What if he's a creep?"

"He's not a creep. And besides, I think it was love at first sight."

As soon as I uttered the words, I heard Connor burst into laughter through the phone, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Alright, goodbye Connor," I sighed, getting a little annoyed at him, and I hung up the phone.

I decided to stalk Josh's Instagram account for the hundredth time since we'd met at Jess's house but was sidetracked when I got a notification from Twitter and started scrolling through the timeline instead. At first, I checked the tweets from the last twenty-four hours, but when I came to the more recent ones, I started seeing the same things being tweeted in all caps. They were all freaking out because Taylor Swift — my mom — had started following someone on Instagram.

"What the-" I mumbled to myself, trying to figure out who she'd followed. It wasn't until a few minutes later that I realized I could just go to Instagram to check it myself, and I let out a startled squeal when I saw the account.

What...the...fuck.

"Mom!" I shouted and ran out of my room as fast as I could with the phone in my hand. "Mom? Taylor!" I repeated, trying to figure out where she was.

"I'm in here!" she called back from the guest bedroom. I hurried into the room and saw her lying flat on her stomach with one hand underneath a dresser.

"Uhm, what are you doing?" I asked, getting distracted from my main mission.

"Benjamin crawled underneath the dresser and can't get out," she sighed with the left side of her face against the floor and tilted her head up to look at me. Her hair was put in a loose top knot bun that flopped back when she moved her head, and she was wearing an old striped t-shirt and denim dungarees.

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