Disclaimer: all recognizable characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

Disclaimer II: This is a football-themed story, but I don't know everything about the sport or players or game. There will be things factually incorrect about the NFL, some probably on accident and some just because it makes the story flow better. If you're going to critique every factual inaccuracy in regards to football, please do not continue on.

Disclaimer III: While this is obviously inspired by you-know-who and you-know-who, this is a twilight fanfiction. This is in no way a Taylor/Travis fanfiction. I'm just taking the idea of a football player and pop star and going with it.

How You Get The Girl

Prologue

I want you for worse or for better

I would wait forever and ever

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together

I would wait forever and ever

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl

~ Taylor Swift, How You Get The Girl (Taylor's Version)

BPOV

I sat on the couch, staring out the window of my penthouse apartment that was nestled right in the center of downtown Nashville. I flipped my phone over between my fingers, waiting waiting waiting for it to ring even though I knew what the call would be.

I was naive enough to have a tiny little bud of hope in the back of my mind. Naive or stupid. Take your pick.

I couldn't turn on the news. Hadn't been able to peacefully watch anything without running the risk of someone making a joke at my expense or taking a shot at me that I was far too sensitive to actually take in years.

It was a life I very mindfully made the decision to go for. Mostly because he was going to be by my side for it. He was going to be there to hold my hand at every red carpet and hug me after every loss, just like I had fully intended to do for him.

His ego was far more fragile than I ever realized. And he was more vindictive than I ever knew.

So I knew. Before the phone ever rang, before my publicist ever got on the line, I knew.

The phone started ringing and I answered without looking at the name. "Hey."

"Hey," Carmen started, her voice giving everything away.

She tried to sugarcoat it. Told me there were still a few categories unannounced.

"It's fine, Carmen," I interrupted her.

"It was a really good album, Bella. It—"

I hung up the phone. I would apologize later. Or maybe pretend my phone died. My palm clenched around the device and I fought against the urge to toss it through the window.

This world, it was so much more than making music. Writing was the easy part. Surviving the politics that went on behind the scenes to even get a song released was the problem.

I tried to keep out of it. Tried to play my part as the good little songstress who was happy to be invited anywhere I went and never got on anyone's bad side. It was a role I had happily played by his side.

But once you reach a certain level you have no choice but to play the game. It was something I didn't realize until too late.

I got played. I gave him far too much credit, even after I heard the kind of people he surrounded himself with these days. The kind of people who had no problem doing whatever it took to make sure I was thoroughly snubbed. Across every category, every show.

My hope had been stupid, the idea that maybe The Grammys would have been different absurd. Nashville… country music… they all loved him.

I thought they loved me, too.

There was a tentative knock at the door. I gave myself a few seconds to wipe the day-old mascara from underneath my eyes and padded across the hardwood floors.

Seth stood on the other side, two warm coffees in his hands. "I—"

"Please don't."

He nodded, walking in and handing me one of the coffees.

We ended up back on the couch. I sat with my back against the armrest, my feet on the cushion between us. My brother eyed me with concern.

"How many did he get?"

Seth swallowed. "He—"

"No. I don't want to know."

"Hey," he signed, leaning over. "You know it's not because of you. It's not because your album wasn't good enough."

I nodded, even though I didn't agree.

My eyes fell to the window again, looking out at the peaceful snow blowing around and coating the city in a cozy white blanket.

The city I grew up in. The one I loved.

The one that so quickly and severely turned on me just because Jacob Black asked them to.

I scrambled off of the couch and went straight to my bedroom. I pulled the biggest suitcase I could find out of the walk-in closet and tossed it on my bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing," I said simply, not bothering to think anything through as I tossed a drawer full of jeans into the suitcase.

"For what?"

I stopped my frantic search for clothes and stared over at my brother. My sweet, innocent younger brother who had been nearly as hurt as I was when Jacob left. He and Jake had been best friends, even though Seth was a couple years younger. He left Seth behind just as quickly as he left me.

I tried to wait it out. Tried to take Dad's advice and lay low and hope it would pass.

It didn't. And I needed out.

"New York."