Chapter 1: Then
THEN | Cleveland Heights — November 2005
Taylor stared out at the football field, the large square of grass a comfort. Concrete brought images of metal crunching and glass shattering; concrete brought sounds of horns blaring and tires squealing; concrete brought the smell of blood and death. Her breathing accelerated, and Taylor focused again on the green field painted with white lines.
The grass…the grass was safe. Car accidents didn’t happen on grass.
Taylor had walked to school that first morning after the crash entirely on grass, avoiding the sidewalks and sprinting across the roads, and she had walked every day since. Two weeks of scurrying across people’s lawns to get to a school day filled with pitying looks from teachers, awkward stares from classmates, and concerned notes from the high school counselor.
No one knew what to say to the girl whose family was dead. No one knew what to do with the songwriter who had gone quiet. Taylor would turn sixteen next month, and yet she felt like her life had ended in that crash.
“This seat taken?”
The question was short and blunt, and a pair of worn sandals stepped into view. Taylor twisted to peer up at the owner of the gruff voice. Thick chest. Dark scruff. Broad smile. Taylor blinked, surprised when she recognized him easily.
Jason Kelce. What was the junior doing on the football field in the middle of class? The field was empty, and Taylor didn’t know Jason. Had never even spoken to him.
There were 1,600 students at Cleveland Heights, and the two brothers ruled their high school both in its social scene and its athletics. Taylor kept to the music room, talent shows, and home; she didn’t party, she didn’t attend home games, she didn’t go to dances. She had transferred into Cleveland Heights the end of her freshman year, and it had taken her less than a week to clock the two good-natured brothers who dominated the high school. It was now the November of her Sophomore year, and she had yet to exchange one sentence with either of the brothers, despite having shared a handful of classes with Travis. The Kelce Brothers were the Kings of Cleveland Heights. Taylor Swift was its starving artist.
Yet there Jason Kelce was: legendary flip flops on despite the cold, beard thick because he never shaved it during football season, and blue eyes surprisingly kind as they looked down to where she sat on football field.
“What’d ya say,” he prodded. “Room for one more?”
Looking back, years later, Taylor would always picture that moment on the football field. Whenever reporters stuck cameras in her face, bulbs flashing, shouting question after question at her.
When did you first fall in love with Kelce?
Did you always know that you were in love with Kelce?
Was it him? Were the songs you wrote all for Kelce?
Taylor Swift would absorb all the questions, and picture the football field of Cleveland Heights and Jason settling onto the grass beside her; the first human to sit beside her — rather than stare at her, question her, try to fix her — and just be there. She would picture that moment on the grass and hold that memory to herself, knowing the reporters would never capture it or know the real truth.
That the first Kelce brother she loved was Jason; and the only Kelce boy she loved as a brother was Jason. Travis would come next, and Travis was always different.
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