Please forgive me for dividing this into two parts, but the smut deserves its own chapter. :)
"Hey, baby, how are you?"
To actually hear his voice when we've been playing text tag almost all week is just something else all together and even though we're not FaceTiming and it's over the phone (more than likely a quick call, too), I burst out into the biggest earsplitting smile, like it's seriously ridiculous, but I don't care.
I stretch out on the bed in my hotel room. It's 8 a.m. on Thursday morning and about 3 on a Wednesday afternoon where he is. The time difference is wild, but we finally managed to carve out a chance to talk to each other.
"Tired," I admit, stifling a yawn, "just eating some breakfast, mentally preparing myself for rehearsal later today." I blow on my tea, taking a careful sip. "How about you? How did filming go?"
"It went great. Fun to be able to do it live. We did that this morning and then we basically had press all afternoon, so I'm beat. Not like you, though, I bet. You've been non-stop since Sunday. You resting, sweetie? Taking care of yourself?"
I laugh, touched like always at his concern. "You know if I don't, my dad and Tree will team up to make me. Don't think I'm equipped to handle that at the moment, so taking care of myself it is."
"Good. I'm glad. Not that I want them to gang up on you, but if I can't be around to make sure you're doing all the things while you're Wonder Woman, makes me feel better knowing they are."
"You're my favorite, though. When you're making sure I do all the things, it's like... Doordash in our pajamas and movie marathons in bed. My dad's always reminding me to take vitamins and drink water." I pull a face and he chuckles; he knows the exact expression. "Speaking of dad...he's so hyped for The Super Bowl, Trav. It's all he talks about. And you cannot get him to take that Chiefs lanyard off. Wears it everywhere."
"Alright nah, Scott, nice!"
"It's actually really cute. Think he's more invested in our relationship than we are. Better not let him hear any of those crazy rumors about you proposing to me on the field Sunday," I tease lightly, "he'll believe it and then get his heart broken when it doesn't happen."
I'm only joking around, but unexpectedly, I get an little inkling of guilt, remembering the interviews during press week I got to watch here and there on social media.
"So....speaking of press," I hedge, "I'm sorry you had to answer all those questions about me. It's kind of unfair, being that this week is supposed to focus on you and your victory and hard work."
"Tay, don't do that."
"Do what?" I blink, even though I know what he's talking about.
"Feel guilty. You had no control over what they ask. It's just what it happens during those things anyway, baby. They have so many local papers and entertainment reporters there, so most of the time, they're asking about anything but football. I knew there'd be questions about you. I like talking about you, Tay. Just hope I did it in a way that was respectful of you."
I can't help the fucking softball that lodges in my throat. "You're always extremely respectful of me. I just don't want the focus to be on me, Trav. It's your week."
"You're a huge part of my life, honey...that's fact. Okay?"
"Okay," I smile, his reassurance warming me. He never grew weary with giving it, either. "Anyway, I can't wait to see you. I miss you so much."
"I miss you, too," that deep voice he has goes soft, "next time I see you, it'll be after the game. Win or lose."
"Nope," I tell him vehemently, "the next time you see me will be on the field, Travis. We'll be covered in red and gold confetti and I'll be the happiest, most proud girlfriend in the entire world. You promised we'd have matching hardware, remember? Not gonna take no for an answer."
