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Summary
“I noticed you couldn’t find a seat.” She mentions and you nod.
“Sit on my lap.” She doesn’t ask, rather commands you to.
Your eyes widen, and you look at her like she’s an idiot.
“We’re at the Grammys.” You point out.
“And? Do as you’re told, baby.”
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OR: You're secretly in love with Taylor, and hate her date, Travis Kelce.