Better Man Written By Taylor Swift Novels & Stories

"Or would you rather we both ditch everyone and stay in here?" Girls throw themselves at me at every given moment, it was surprising that even though I did like to have a good time with them, I was not the playboy that everyone thought I was. I mean, I am a very bad boy who has done some very bad things…, trust me when I say that I have done some very very bad thing. But I don't just go around fucking everyone because I can. There's class in limited access and I liked to keep it that way but gossips like the Coral Writer, a popular anonymous blogger had painted me black already.

''You know what I mean Justin Beiber,'' I jabbed him with the stray pencil I found in my newly organised locker. ''Can I pick the song on the way there?'' I asked as we left the building. ''Don't you always?'' ''I'm trying to be polite. I have manners you know,'' ''Could have fooled me,'' This is what I loved about my relationship with Zack, we could banter back and forth and not take anything too seriously. ''Do you want to listen to rap or, pop?'' ''R&B,'' ''That wasn't an option, but okay,'' Zack drove without saying a word. I closed my eyes and absorbed the soulful sounds of Alicia Keys and Destiny's Child. Music was such a powerful tool that could evoke so many emotions within seconds.

I took my phone and texted her P: Salut, where are you? ( Hey) E: Hello, I went to check one of my patient P: Oh sorry E: It's okay love! Do you want anything? P: can you get me a LYRICSANDPAPER with lyrics of 'I did something bad' E: By Taylor Swift? P: Yeah... I want to make it up to Luke, I was disrespectful towards him yesterday E: Ohh hey the lyrics aren't good as your intention P: I know but it's the most badass song of her

SYDNEY Someone had Better now by Post Malone blaring through the sound doc. I tuned out the lyrics and focused on the tune. It was one of my favorite songs but right now, it was hitting a little too close to home. I wanted Victor to be better, wanted him to move on and be happy even if it wasn't with me but I couldn't handle the thought of that just yet.

I say. “I’ll clean this all up, I swear.” He says with his mouth full of pastrami. “That was never really up for debate buddy.” I pull up a seat by kitchen counter. “You know,” He pauses to lick the mayo off his fingers. “Now that you and Cam aren’t together anymore, no one would judge you if you went for the better brother.” He says, motioning to himself and flashing that signature Blackburn smile with the one dimple on his left cheek. I shake my head and roll my eyes. “I think people would judge if I went for a child.” I scoff.

1954. “Stand up straight,” My mother breathes the words to me under her breath and her fingers reach out and pinch me where others will not notice. I no longer whimper when she does it. “Do not forget to smile.” It is not a reassurance- it is a warning. A warning to be perfect. I practice at night, pulling my lips into the wide grin she favors. I practice the pitch and tone of my voice as I dutifully extend my hand and repeat over and over ‘Hello, it is nice to meet you’ and ‘I am Rosalie Anderson, it is nice to meet you.’ I practice until I am practically blue in the face and when I sleep I no longer know who I am. If I am Rosalie Anderson, the girl who does not like her mother. The girl wh

After a few silent beats, I dragged my hand across my face, smearing my makeup, mascara touching my lips. "I just think I need to be alone, please," I said, my voice breaking completely. "Okay," she said. She crouched down, placed a tiny kiss on my forehead, and walked out the door. I couldn't even look at my face in the mirror. My hands shook as I opened the letter. My eyes glanced at the words: 'Not meant for you. I know you would hate me after you read this'. I shouted, throwing the silly paper away. We were supposed to be dating—he'd promised. The plan was to tell everyone we were now a couple, not for him to leave me to cross the continent after promising—

But they weren’t sad tears. They were goodbye tears. The Letter I Didn’t Send, I wrote Ethan a letter that night. Not to send—just to write. Just to say the things I needed to say. Dear Ethan, I’m engaged. His name is Oliver. He’s steady and kind and nothing like you. That’s not an insult. It’s just the truth. I loved you with everything I had. It burned so bright. And when it ended, I thought I would die. But I didn’t. I survived. I grew. I became someone new.

Under each photo, she'd written a little story. A poor girl, beaten down by fate, was sponsored by a young rich man—and in her gratitude, she fell in love with him. "At my darkest moment, he appeared like an angel, paid off all my debts, and told me, 'Don't be afraid. I'm here.'" She turned their story into a fairytale, a love story between the prince and Cinderella. Pure, romantic, and worthy of blessings. The comments under each post stung more than the photos themselves.

I sighed and whispered, “I’m just not used to it. After all, it’s our first time meeting.” Ryan nodded and replied seriously, “It’s okay. I’ll remember you. We’ll meet again.” My heart beat even faster. I gave him a quick response and slipped out while he was not paying attention. The music grew loud again, but all I could think about was Ryan’s insanely handsome face. I still could not fathom how someone could be that good-looking.