This is a short story. It is completely fictional and any pictures chosen for it were merely the closest ones to my descriptions as I could find on Google. Enjoy!
Walking down by the docks, Taylor was doing her best not to be noticed. She was wearing a pale blue sundress and flip flops. Her hair was done up in an easy pony-tail and was covered by a big hat. Despite the nearly cloudless sky, it was a bit breezy on the pier, so she was also rocking a light brown jacket and matching sunglasses that covered nearly half her face.
She quietly walked past an old couple sitting on a bench and a young man fishing, to reach the end of the pier. She leaned out over the edge of the water, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying her break from the paparazzi. Subtly, she glanced back over her should to make sure their were no flashing cameras. Seeing no one, she twisted around to lean against the stone railing, the wind fluttering her hair around her shoulders.
She noticed the young man was now reeling hard, a look of determination on his face. He was wearing a flowing white button down shirt with a dirty Tee underneath. He had brown plaid pants on, and he was barefoot. Imagine Noah from The Notebook, but not as good looking. She marveled at his flowing blond hair, narrow shoulders, and tanned skin. He had one foot up on the stone railing and was leaning back with his rod, his hands working the rod feverishly from side to side.
Unexpectedly, the tip of the rod whipped backwards, the line snapping. With a frustrated expression, the young man reeled in his remaining line and began stringing a new hook onto the end. As if he knew she was watching, his head snapped up and he looked right at her.
Forgetting that her face was hidden behind her bug-eyed glasses, Taylor flinched and spun around quickly on her heels. She heard a small snort, and prayed that he had not recognized her.
“Hey you over there!” shouted the young man across the dock. “Wanna try to catch the beast that just snapped my line?”
Taylor didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t appear to know her, and she hadn’t fished in ages. Deliberating, she decided it was worth the risk. She spun back around, this time on her toes, and started to walk over to him.
“Of course,” she said, flashing a grin. “But you might have to cast for me. I never could get the hang of it.”
“I can do that. My name is Sam. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Sam. I’m Taylor.”
Taylor had butterflies as she skipped down the stairs of her Aunt’s country home to answer the door.
She hadn’t been out with someone who didn’t know who she was since before her first single was released, and frankly, she was excited to be have a blank slate.
Her afternoon had been fantastic. She and Sam had spent three hours chatting about the most obnoxious things while trying to catch fish on the pier. It turned out that he was from a small town in Wisconsin, and he grew up on a dead end road. His parents were big time classic rock fans, and he grew up listening to the likes of the Steve Miller Band, Queen and Journey. He never really got into country, but he liked some of the classics by Johnny Cash.
After debating music, the conversation turned to foods, sports and literature. She loved that he was a huge harry potter nerd, but they didn’t agree on which houses they were in. Sam stuck up for the Slytherins, defiantly stating that they had gotten a bad rap in the books.
“True Slytherins strive for personal success,” he explained. “Just because they are ambitious, does not mean that they are evil.” Taylor preferred the trustworthiness and kind demeanor of Hufflepuff.
They spent a while discussing what kinds of mischief and shenanigans they might get into if they were wizards. Throughout the afternoon, the conversation just seemed to flow. For Taylor, it had been fantastic not to talk about her life as an international celebrity.
A nervous titter was about her as she pulled the door open with a broad smile, “Hello Sam.”
“You look radiant,” Sam exclaimed, and his eyes truly meant it.
“Will this attire suffice?” she asked curiously. Sam had told her to wear something easy going, and she wondered what he had planned for their evening.
“Absolutely,” he replied. With a twirl of his hands, he asked, “shall we go then my lady?” in a terrible British accent.
“Is that the best you can do?” Taylor smirked, pulling the door closed behind her.
Smack! The balloon hit Sam right in the face, and he was drenched in a burst of cold water. He had just peeked up into the barn loft when Taylor shrieked, “Bombs Away!”
Spluttering, Sam launched a pair of balloons up at her, and then jumped up onto the ladder attached to the wall. Having dodged his two balloons, Taylor pelted him with several as he made his way up the wrungs of the ladder like a fireman. At the top of the stairs, he pivoted, turned and threw a balloon before she could duck.
Drenched and laughing, Taylor held up her left hand, waving a white flag in surrender. Sam lifted himself up onto the loft and sidled over to her slowly, grinning but not breaking eye contact. He was five feet out when she whipped her right hand from behind her back, heaving her last balloon.
It hit him right in the chest, and he coughed, “oh now, you’re in trouble!” Picking her up off her feet with his right arm, he held her tight against his chest, staring into her eyes. With his left hand he took his last balloon and burst it over her head. She gasped as the water fell over both of them, and then leaned down to kiss his firm and expectant lips.
Sam’s Proposal spent 14 weeks as the Billboard #1 song in 2015. Taylor never wrote another break-up song.