"Would you dance with me?"
Travis extended his hand to her, all handsome charm, but she immediately recognized the sincerity, too. It wasn't a "move." No, he meant it and Taylor found herself exhaling, the little bubbles down low in her belly interloping as though she'd chugged a full glass of champagne.
Date number four and she was feeling a kind of way...she'd flown to him this time and he'd shown her around the house, apologizing for the mess and even more apologetic over the decor or lack thereof.
"It's kind of...yeah, it's not great," he admitted, scratching his ear. "My ex put everything together and when she moved out, I told her to take most of the stuff, so...haven't really gotten around to redecorating."
"No, no, it's fine. I like the minimalist look."
She was already jumping the gun, considering surprising him with all new furniture when she caught up with the madness of her thoughts.
Stop it. Stop it right now, she instructed sternly, get a fucking hold of yourself.
He certainly hadn't helped matters much by being so damn nice. She'd steadfastly promised herself she wouldn't leap into anything again, she wouldn't get so far ahead of herself that she was unable to see the forest for the trees, she just wouldn't do it.
But the issue lie with Travis himself. There was something that screamed at her that this was entirely unique from anything she'd encountered in the past, how there was no real tentative, weird getting to know you period because from phone call number one, there was the strange sense of "have we met?" even though they hadn't. She was slow to trust people, especially given how painfully her last relationship had ended, but quick to fall, despite best efforts and though she'd gone into this with her guard up, it hadn't lasted very long.
Now, he stood in front of her, after a really nice dinner, in his living room by lamplight, asking her to dance to the silky voice of Jill Scott that he'd put on the sound system.
If it were anyone else, Taylor might've felt mildly self-conscious about slow dancing with someone in a setting that wasn't a wedding or a school dance, but he was sweetly earnest and if she was being honest, he looked damn good in all black, his eyes almost shy, awaiting an answer.
She nodded silently, taking his outstretched hand in hers. It was warm and though it didn't mark the first instance where they'd held hands, the contact made the pulse in her neck skip.
It was somewhat of a shock how well they fit. Her arms came up to circle his neck, his dropped to rest on her waist, conscious, she took into account, of not dipping too low (which wasn't an easy feat with how huge they were; both covered the entire small of her back), being a total gentleman. Damn, he was tall, which she obviously was aware of, but having to sort of crane up to be at eye level wasn't something she was used to. It was a nice change, she decided, the notion fading away dreamily as he began swaying them to the soft beat of the music.
He always made a point to hug her hello and goodbye, taking her in his strong arms whenever they kissed, so being held by him was nothing new and yet there was something entirely special about this, pressed so close to him that their heartbeats started to synch up. It wasn't often that she let that kind of sense of safety consume her, but with Travis, in his embrace, safe was the only proper way to describe it.
"You surprise me," she found herself murmuring into his collarbone, "all the time."
She heard a hint of a smile in his reply. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Oh, it's definitely good."
Neither of them seemed to notice when the song ended. It was only when Taylor realized they were still dancing with gentle, controlled movements in elongated silence that she laughed.
