I've hidden references to the songs Marjorie, Illicit affair and Long Live, comment when you find them!
As Travis stepped out of the elevator a delicious scent of citrus, nutmeg and cardamon hit her nose before he cleared the threshold. He had an effortlessly cool air about him. Pretty much the opposite of her, as all she did was try hard to make people like her.
She was taken back by his seer size, but refused to let that show. Instead, she took a step in his direction for a welcoming hug, quickly remembered their "no contact unless explicit consent" contract, lowered her arms and stood at her tallest. He stepped towards her, getting close enough for an embrace still allowing for a small distance, contractually enforced, between them. Taylor felt like she was peacocking, in a battle of will with his large presence. She wouldn't be backing down just because he had 100lbs, a few inches and standard American values constantly reassuring him how wonderful he is.
The large football player towered above her, and despite his domineering stature he exuding a playfulness with his half smirk. His searing eye contact was disarming. No wonder he had his own dating show. She understood how a gaggle of women could easily fall for this man. He ooze charisma. "I went on quite the adventure to get here. I feel like Marilyn sneaking into the white house." He raised his eyebrows, likening himself to the blond bombshell.
"This arrangement is actually the precursor to my campaign announcement. Vote Swift 2024." His stare filled her with an unexpected frenetic energy. Calm down, she reminded herself. Of course, he is charming and attractive. He is a very famous athlete who has hordes of women throw themselves at him.
"You can count on my vote." Travis broke eye contact and sauntered into the open floor plan living room and dining room. "This place is great. It looks like a bougie cat lady lives here." He casually flung the insult as he eyed the velvet vintage furniture, hanging bulbs light fixtures, deep red walls and exposed wooden ceiling beams.
"She does." Taylor said flatly repurposing his jab as a fact. She cocked her head and took in his ensemble. He was sporting gold and black Nike high tops that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than on a sidewalk, distressed black denim jeans that hugged his thighs so well if he flexed too hard they might tear and a dizzying animal spotted black and white button down shirt. A gold chain drew her eye to his hairy broad chest exposed by the low neck line of his collar. His stylist did well, was perhaps even showing off, knowing this was a significant meeting. She should get in touch to collaborate on the upcoming public appearances.
Travis' green eyes sparkled with mischief as he noted her taking him in. He gave an exaggerated twirl and asked "You like the fit? I tried to dress up for you."
Now, she would show him she could hold her own in verbal sparing. "You look like Cruel devil's husband went vegan".
"I"ll take it, T-Swizzle."
Taylor crinkled her nose at the nick name. Jeez, it was like he was raised in a fraternity. Actually, in a locker room filled with bro-y nick names and banter. "We'll have to work on pet names. That's not my favorite".
"I'll workshop it, baby." Travis winked.
Taylor bristled at the revised pet name. Was it intimate or condescending? It could be patronizing insinuating she is infantile or, as term of endearment that real lovers would use as a reminder of their mutual affection. Either way, she didn't like it. But her goal here was to get a long with him so she would let it slide.
She quickly switched gears into host mode, "Let me give you a tour." She lead him room to room, each with richly painted walls in colors of deep berry, forest green, mustard yellow or adorned with William Morris floral wallpaper. She chattered as if she was an art docent presenting to a group. There was comfort in the rehearsed conversation topic she had performed for previous guests. She talked through the various art pieces housed by ornate golden frames, making her walls looks like a private museum. She explained where and why she purchased each piece of furniture, vintage bar sign and light fixture with hand crafted metal foliage and flowers entwined with the bulbs, all meticulously curated to create a quirky cozy cabin rather than an urban penthouse. She wanted each room to tell a story and invite guests to learn about the history that was on display. She loved the feeling of walking into a consignment store and being surrounded by objects that had lived lives before coming into hers.
When they reached the dining room Travis stopped in front of a simple wooden frame, the most understated of all her art. Inside was a weathered five by seven black and white photograph of a brunette with a poodle cut hairstyle, high cheekbones, inviting eyes and a familiar lip shape. It was the smallest picture in the room and Taylor had actually skipped it despite covering almost every other object in her house. "Who is this lovely lady?"
Taylor back tracked to wear Travis stood and took her place beside him, facing the picture. She paused a moment trying to figure out the right level of information to divulge. "This was my mom's mom, Marjorie." She took in a deep breath pushing down the stinging memory. She had mourned the matron and even written a song about her. But they were close and she still felt her absence as well as her lingering presence "She was a really talented opera singer and inspired me to get into music."
Travis seemed to gravitated towards Taylor. She could feel his body heat warm her side as he floated closer to her "I bet you made her really proud, carrying on her musical legacy. You also got her her lips."
Taylor nervously laughed "We also share the need for people to clap and cheer for us." She walked towards the kitchen to shake off the truth she she wrapped in a self-deprecating joke and the knowledge he had assessed the details of her lips.
Travis took a second to follow as he stood watching her leave the room. For someone who shared her deepest thoughts with millions of people she had a tendency to shy away from displaying her unplanned emotions on a smaller stage.
She didn't let the discomfort metastasize. This was, for all intense and purposes, a business meeting and she was a seasoned professional. She found his unwavering confidence off-putting and his prying questions unnerving but she needed to get along with him.
She took a breath and tried to think as logically and clearly as her brain would allow. Everything she did, she did to the best of her ability and this would be no different. They could lean into their natural chemistry, be it banter and casual insults, to achieve their goal. Just as she did with her song writing, she needed to lean into the emotion she was trying to evoke. She could feel excited, flirty, comfortable and heated but nothing would come of it. These were emotions someone could experience while acting in a play or watching a movie. But it was just an act. And in order to be a good actress she would dive in and become the part. But at the end of the day, when the camera stopped rolling, she would still be alone with her thoughts. And hopefully, record breaking ticket sales. The mental lines she was drawing would let her surrender to their charade.
Taylor walked into the kitchen, leaned against the island and straightened a pile of books on the counter. One of her favorites, The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch had been left open. She liked to revisit his message of over coming obstacles and seizing the moment as inspiration for her own life when she needed an extra push. Seemingly very appropriate of her current situation.
"This is my favorite room in the apartment. Have you eaten?" Taylor looked around as the afternoon light reflected off the vintage yellow and red backsplash tiles.
Travis followed her lead and leaned onto the corner of white marble. She tried not to noticed him gripping the edge of the hard stone which made the tendons in his muscled forearms flex. "I could always eat. I'm a big boy. What did your chef prepare for you?" He nodded towards the fridge.
Taylor closed the book and gave him a knowing look, "No chef, just me. Cooking makes me feel somewhat normal. But baking is my specialty."
"Oh yeah? Can you bake me something?"
"We can bake chocolate chip cookies. I'm not a 60s house wife." She opened a drawer filled with what looked to be brightly colored frilly fabrics. She held up two matching vintage red plaid aprons with lace adorning the straps and skirt. "I just like to dress like one sometimes."
"My favorite color." Travis walked over to her side of the island and ducked his head for her to bestow the girly garment upon him. Her hands skimmed his warm neck as she placed it over his head. She felt his solid chest as she straightened the top over his ridiculous shirt. She walked around to tie it behind his broad back, a testament to countless hours of determination and discipline in the gym and on the field.
Taylor dressed herself in the matching apron and proceeded to get the necessary cookie baking supplies. She directed Travis step by step, from memory, to construct her favorite chocolate chip masterpieces. Despite her initial assessment of his alpha entitlement she found he was a good sous chef. He followed her instructions without complaint and asked her to check his work when it came to the consistency of his mixture or measurements of ingredients, ensuring he executed the recipe to her liking.
Taylor put the gooey balls of dough into the oven, closing the door with her hip. The room filled with an aroma of rich butter, vanilla and caramelized sugar thickening the air with a coziness.
After washing his hands Travis reached for the dish cloth sitting next to the pile of books. He dried each strong massive hand while eyeing the top book. "The last lecture?"
Maybe it was the intoxicating fragrance of the cookies wrapping the room in a comforting embrace, or their recent confection collaboration, Taylor felt inclined to speak more freely. "It's one of my favorites. It's like a memento mori which I find humbling and inspiring. Like, if I only have so much time, especially as a geriatric pop star, I need to make the most of it."
Travis chuckled at the self appointed title. "I know what you mean. You know what NFL stand for?"
Taylor looked at him inquisitively.
"Not for long." Travis continued, "My brother is living on borrowed time. Physically he shouldn't be playing but he bleeds green. I'm only a few years behind him. We talk about it all the time. What do you do after football? Once you get to the mountain top there is no where else to go. But that climb is your life, your personality. So who are you after that?"
Taylor's heart hurt for him. It was something she knew all too well. After winning artist album of the year for the second time she didn't know what her next goal would be. She has no one there to celebrate with and soon after the world seemed to turn against her leaving her alone with cold statues she felt she no longer deserved. "Is that why you are doing this? Dating me?" She used her fingers as air quotes.
"That's one reason." He replied ominously as he looked into her eyes, trying to tell her something without saying it. Tree had mentioned there were anterior motives. Probably some product launch or new venture. He didn't owe her a syllabus of his career plans. "What about you? You don't need the publicity. Don't you have hundreds of million followers?"
Taylor hesitated but decided if he could share his motivations she would too. "I have to beat what I did last time, every time." She contemplated leaving it at that but his eyes softened so she continued, "Otherwise, I'm a colossal failure. I'm constantly reinventing myself and trying to get bigger and bigger. In some ways, that is why my previous relationship ended. He could love me, but not everything that comes with me. Now, I need to reach more than my typical audience. Love and football will help me cross generations, genders and country lines. I've only been this successful because I've been able to redefine what the ceiling looks like for an older female pop artist."
He looked at her with approval and pity in his eyes. Her skin started tingling at his stare "That is a huge mountain to climb. But I'm happy to help you get there."
Taylor nodded as the oven dinged. She took the hot cookies out of the oven before pouring two glasses of milk and handing one to Travis.
"Cheers" She held her glass up and Travis met hers with his. "If they think we love each other, we can make them love us."
"Cheers, long live our legacies." His green irises connected with her blue ones and they drank to their union.