🆂🆈🅼🅿🅰🆃🅷🆈 🄸🅂
🄰🄲🅃🅄🄰🄻🄻🅈 𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪 ♡
──────────────────
ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ: ᴘᴀʀᴛʏɢɪʀʟ!ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪxᴄx x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀɢɪʀʟ!ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀsᴡɪғᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴇɴᴠʏ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs, sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ, sᴀᴛɪʀᴇ, ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs, ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴇ ᴀʙʀᴀᴍs, ғʟᴜғғ!ʏᴜʀɪ
ＴＨＩＳ ＤＯＥＳＮ'Ｔ ＭＡＫＥ ＡＮＹ ＳＥＮＳＥ ＡＴ ＡＬＬ ♡
──────────────────
Taylor walked through the halls like she owned the place—and maybe, in a way, she did. All eyes followed her, drawn by that effortless charm she carried like sunlight through glass. Everyone adored her. That’s no secret. She was the star of every show, the girl with a name everyone knew and a story everyone wanted to live. A sorority darling, the kind who dated Hollywood’s rising sons and now held hands with the school’s golden football star.
Her grades? Impeccable. Her record? Untouched.
People whispered, “She’s the standard.” And maybe she was.
Because in a world built on image and envy, everyone wanted to be Taylor.
Everyone did — even Charli.
She told herself she shouldn’t want to be Taylor, but let’s be honest— who wasn’t at least a little intimidated by the Taylor Swift? Charli played it cool, pretended she didn’t care. But deep down, envy had already taken root.
She hated Taylor, not because of who she was, but because she was everything Charli wasn’t. Charli hated herself more for feeling that way.
Taylor was the golden girl — delicate, poetic, the kind of person who spoke softly yet somehow commanded every room. She was all light and lace, a leader when she needed to be, a follower when it made her humble. Her presence was polished, like she’d been born knowing how to shine.
Charli, on the other hand, was chaos dressed in glitter. A party girl with a reputation that lit up every rumor mill in town. She was loud, reckless, a little too honest for her own good. She broke hearts and rules like it was second nature. If Taylor was the sunrise, Charli was the wildfire that followed the night. They were opposites — two different worlds walking the same hallways, breathing the same air. Charli laughed it off whenever Taylor’s name came up, rolled her eyes, sipped her drink, pretended not to care.
“Gracie, oh my God… can we not talk about Boring Barbie for once?” Charli groaned, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of her drink.
Gracie blinked at her, caught off guard.
“Boring Barbie…?” she repeated slowly, the words tasting unfamiliar on her tongue as she stared at Charli in disbelief.
“Absolutely. You’ve been yapping about her nonstop, and it’s honestly making me yawn,” Charli said, her tone sharp but slurred at the edges.
She didn’t even realize who she was talking to— high, reckless, and teetering on the edge of her own chaos. Gracie sat beside her, quiet and uneasy, not quite sure how to handle Charli’s kind of wild. The music was loud, the lights too bright, and in that haze, Charli’s words cut through like broken glass—
careless, glittering, and bound to leave a mark.
“It’s almost like you hate her,” Gracie blurted out before she could stop herself. Charli scoffed, the sound dripping with sarcasm as she lifted her drink again. “Hate her?” she echoed with a low chuckle. “Please. She’s just… overrated. Don’t you think?” The words slipped out too easily, but she didn’t care. Not tonight.“She’s been on top for so long—and for what reason?” Charli went on, voice rising just enough to draw glances.
“I’m just glad she and my boyfriend’s friend broke up. It would’ve been absolute hell seeing her face every day.”
Gracie didn’t respond right away. She just sat there, eyes steady, quietly taking it all in— the cracks in Charli’s confidence, the jealousy spilling out like spilled champagne. This was the moment she’d been waiting for,
and she wasn’t about to waste it.
The next few days blurred by, and then—boom—Charli dropped a new record. It hit the campus like wildfire. A beat so raw, so alive, that it pulsed through every party, every hallway, every car stereo parked in the lot. Everyone expected it, of course—she was the party girl, the queen of chaos—but no one saw this coming. It wasn’t just another remix. It was deeper, darker, addictive. The kind of track that crawled under your skin and refused to leave.
By the time night fell, every speaker on campus was screaming her name.
Taylor walked through the campus, the bass from Charli’s remix echoing down every hallway. It was everywhere—blaring from dorm windows, car stereos, and the quad speakers. But beneath the heavy beat and electric rhythm, Taylor heard it. The words. The tone. The message.
She didn’t need to guess—she knew that track was about her.
Charli’s voice, sharp and confident, cut through the air like a well-aimed shot,
and before long, everyone was whispering. She's obsessed with her.
Because from Taylor's point of view, it was almost romantic. The infamous, unbothered party girl—bothered by her? Taylor found something strangely beautiful in that. The thought that Charli—wild, fearless Charli—had her name in her mouth, her face in her head, her voice turning Taylor’s existence into a melody. She didn’t need to know the context, Gracie's words and the track was enough of a proof for her, what mattered was simple— Charli was thinking about her. and it's honestly making her wet.
“So… she hates me?” Taylor asked, settling into the chair of her recording studio, the hum of equipment filling the silence. “I mean,” Gracie began carefully, “she did call you ‘Boring Barbie.’” Taylor let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Boring Barbie? That’s it?” she said, a grin tugging at her lips.
Gracie hesitated, then added, “And… she said she’s thankful you and her boyfriend’s friend broke up.” Taylor rolled her eyes, leaning back with a sigh that was half amusement, half disbelief.
“Of course she’s thankful,” she murmured, that same grin returning—calm, knowing, and just a little bit dangerous.
A few weeks later, Taylor struck back. Her new track dropped out of nowhere—no promos, no teasers—just a midnight release that lit the entire campus on fire. It wasn’t her usual soft, poetic sound. This one had bite.
Every lyric sharp enough to draw blood, every beat heavy with something colder than heartbreak—revenge. It didn’t take long for people to connect the dots .The way she laced her words with irony,
the not-so-subtle mentions of late-night parties, and that one line— “I heard you called me boring Barbie when the coke's got you brave.”
That was it. The smoking gun. Everyone knew exactly who she was talking about. Charli. The campus split overnight—Team Taylor or Team Charli.
Whispers turned into debates, debates turned into full-on drama, and both girls became the center of a storm neither could quite control anymore.
The air still trembled between them after their kiss behind the janitor’s closet. “And your song, wood—what’s it about?” Charli asked softly, a teasing smirk dancing on her lips. “It’s all about you,” Taylor whispered, her breath warm as she pinned Charli gently against the wall, their hearts beating in sync.
Taylor smiled. “So, you think about me?” she blurted out, her ego peeking through. “Who wouldn’t think about you?” Charli shot back, her tone half-tease, half-truth. “You’re probably high right now,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say, Barbie,” Charli replied, smirking.
Charli chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Taylor’s face. “Be thankful I have a little sympathy for you, or else..."
Taylor grinned, her eyes glimmering. “I know… this is actually romantic.”
