TNT Short Fics

And I'll meet a girl in the heat of July

The sun is high above them as Travis watches Taylor writing in her notebook. They're spending her day off lazing on a blanket in a park in Zürich. She's alternating between furious scribbling and pausing to look out across the view of the lake in front of them. Sometimes she just lays her head on her arm, slowly finding the words to what he's sure to be an amazing chorus or bridge or poem. Yet she looks serene, feet kicked up in the air. Her hat meant to keep the sun out of her eyes is askew, and he's filling his time watching her as he plays with the ends of her hair and pretends to look at his phone.

She's the most beautiful thing in the world on a good day but writing? Lost in the genius that he's sure he will never find anything but awe-inspiring? She's breathtaking.

You're staring again," she says, lips quirked to the side in amusement, but not stopping her pen.

"Mmhm, not sorry," he replies, kissing her arm.

She laughs and goes back under into the process. It is almost hard to remember the time almost a year ago when she was hesitant to share this part with him so freely. She still gets a little sheepish when it interrupts at the most inconvenient of times. But on a normal day-to-day, it is just a part of their life. Taylor writes or plays, and Travis easily fits into the space around it—just like he promised.

A year ago...the phrase nags at him. It's not quite a year since he received that first text from her. And while they'll be on two different continents that day, he cannot wait to reach that milestone. One that feels momentous in an unspoken way between them. Like reaching it will allow them to move toward the next milestones—the big ones.

Still, something bristles at the back of his mind. They've been so busy that he realizes he doesn't even know today's date, so he checks his phone to orient himself.

July 8 shines up at him from the screen.

Oh.

He can still feel the nerves he had walking into Arrowhead that day. Like he was a rookie, once again walking in for his first game. And while he left disappointed that night, those nerves left with him. Like he knew deep down that was not the end of it. That something was still coming.

It feels like yesterday, yet he feels all the moments between then and now just as deeply—from the first time he laid eyes on her that humid night in New York and how her hand felt in his as he kissed her softly to the crisp fall air around them as they drove out to look at his new house. He remembers the cold of her cheek against his lips at that first playoff game against Miami, the bright Bahamian sun where they made promises for the future, and the chill of the cool, soggy day they walked around unnoticed for hours, reclaiming London from her past. He recalls dancing in the kitchen while she cooked dinner and dancing at Coachella as he held her close. Laughing through the pain of her trying to help him up the stairs on his injured knee and crying on the bathroom floor together while her heart was still healing. He feels every last one.

All these moments started with that Kansas City night where they never met but they became forever intertwined.

He turns to her once again. She's looking into the distance, eyes the brightest deep blue in the sun. She's flipping the edges of her journal back and forth, lost in thought.

He tips towards her and kisses her cheek. Then he can't help but peck another one next to the first. She smiles in surprise and turns her face to him.

"What was that for?" she asks, sensing he's in a place different from their normal casual affection.

He smiles broadly at her, remembering once again that day and her sparkling laughter when she messed up the lyrics to "Last Kiss."

"Just thinkin' how I wish I had a friendship bracelet with me right now," he replies.