Their second date is on a random rooftop of the apartment of one of her friends and they share cheap boxed wine in red solo cups and she takes her shoes off, wiggling neon yellow painted toes while she talks about growing up in Pennsylvania, how she never felt like she fit in anywhere.
Travis likes how the more buzzed she gets, the more she uses her hands to accentuate her point and by the time she finishes with the story she's telling him, she's nearly slapped him in the face five times and her giggle is so adorable, he wants to kiss her. He likes the way she arches her eyebrows when he accidentally says what's floating around in his head out loud, how her dimples deepens as he draws around her.
She tastes of Chardonnay, mixed with cherry lip-gloss and she laughs because it's created a stickiness but he goes back to kiss her again. She shakes her head, trying to unsuccessfully thumb off some of the mess from his lower lip, laughing instead.
They stay on that damn rooftop for hours, discussing everything under the sun. Wine drunk Taylor is blunt, in the best of ways, not too intimidated to ask questions and equally unafraid to discuss the past.
He reads the sadness in her smile, one that he already knows the origins of because she brought it up when they first started talking.
She turns to him, her blue eyes dark. She runs her big toe over a rough patch of ground, barely blinking, even though he figures it has to at least sting.
"I don't want to be anybody's secret," she encircles his wrist with both hands urgently. "Do you understand?"
Despite the profound influence of the wine, her sentiment comes across perfectly clear. It's not a threat, either, there's nothing remotely off-putting; it's imperative he realizes what's at stake and he nods.
Not just blind reassurance either...she doesn't need him agreeing for the sake of trying to win her over.
He's not one to play games...hates the silly manipulative tactics people use on each other and he isn't about to lie, he won't mince words. It's not the first time he's been struck with the uncanny impression that this is going somewhere and he truly believes that's exactly what she's telling him.
"Never."
There's more he would like to say on the subject; how wrong it was that anyone would make her feel so small when she shines without even trying to. But he also has an awareness that his mouth and brain don't always synch up and saying the wrong thing would be devastating.
So, he tells her never. He'll never make her hide.
And he means it.
'
"Look at you!"
Travis is half asleep, the magazine in his girlfriend's hands flying dangerously close to his eyes and he groans, grabbing the pillow to shut out the invading sunlight.
"Baby, you know I love you, but it's what...five in the morning?"
He feels her slide back in beside him. "It's actually a quarter to ten. Someone from the team came by and dropped off a bunch of copies, but I didn't want to wake you."
Realizing that she had indeed done just that, she blushes. "Well, okay, but this is---you've got to see how this turned out. I haven't read the whole article yet, I've been focusing on the shoot and damn, these are beautiful. I know I saw some of the raw footage earlier, but..."
She shakes her head and he can't help but push up, his eyes still half closed and take the Wall Street Journal from her hands, flipping through the spread.
