Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce inspired romance. Can you find all the Easter eggs? |
Trace Kelton, a charismatic NFL star, is on the brink of losing it all after attempting to save an intoxicated woman that ended with him hospitalizing three men. To p...
"Why don't I see you running after that man, Syler?" her mother questioned as she stood from her chair and pointed to the door.
Syler's mouth went dry, frozen to her spot. Rooted in place with the smell of Trace lingering in the room like a ghost. Trace didn't want to see her. She could tell by the distant, harsh glare he gave her on the way out of her home—her presence. Trace didn't even have words for her, maybe he thought they'd be a waste. That look was clear. It said he never wanted to see her again.
Her stomach knotted and twisted, and heaved, colliding with the space in her head and heart she was using to form a song that had hit her like a freight train. The two merging, fighting over her attention made her sick. Lightning spidered through her limbs, rolled her gut, and spun her head. The awful gnawing coming over her was worse than the hangover she felt on stage. She'd gladly do that again a hundred times over to never see Trace's green eyes bore into her soul with so much distaste and resentment.
Syler had hurt him. That much was abundantly clear. And it killed her.
"He doesn't want to see me," she whispered, her golden hair falling forward with the tilt of her head. "And I have a song to write anyway." The song. It was unlike any she'd ever written before. Instead of this glittery cloud of an idea that fell in her lap, it was this raw twist of beauty. Vines of a garden spiraling up enchanted branches and blooming fantastical flowers that sparkled with vigor and love. This song wasn't made for the masses. It was made for her... It was made for him.
Clinging to it felt like she was clinging to the remnants of their relationship. Like she'd be able to keep a piece of him with her forever more. And for the first time, it wasn't just the words. It was the whole arrangement. Guitars, violins, piano, crescendoing, and softening, intricate little details and riffs that she could hear in her head. But she didn't know how to write out the sound of music, just lyrics. So if she let her concentration waver even a bit before she memorized it, it'd be gone. Just like him.
Her mother sighed and began collecting all the papers on the table that had disgusted Trace. Watching that simple action made Syler feel like it was truly over. And the remaining physical evidence that they had ever been more than just a contract could be easily cleaned up with two hands and shredded.
It was a gut punch. Images of them in bed together, him holding her, them playing football in her garden, him looking at her from stage... the feeling of acceptance and trust, and the belief that her crazy life was not a burden... Her massive crush on him stirred and exploded in her with a vicious attraction that she finally called accurately for what it was.
Love.
It all collided.
It all made sense.
Syler Trixie was in love with Trace Kelton.
She broke out of her frozen shell of a statue and flung into motion. "Oh my god," spilled from her lips like honey. Sprinting to the door, Syler scrambled for her keys from off the hook that was nailed to the wall, and ran out the door barefoot, not willing to allow any more physical distance to grow between them. That glittering cloud of an idea—the song she already adored skittered back into the ether and vanished as the cold air hit her face. This was more important.
She needed to tell Trace she loved him before the delicate fabric of their relationship severed for good. If it hadn't already.
