Isn't That Sweet? | Tayvis Stories

I've Waited My Whole Life For You

I don't typically write stuff like this, but I just had a weird burst of inspiration one night and this came out. I've kind of been sitting on it for a while now. Hope you enjoy :)

The club was loud and cramped. The celebration was in full swing, and in midst of the thrill, I paused to breathe it all in.

He was triumphant, exuding an excitement that vibrated through his body into mine from where we'd been pressed together. His hand taking up the space of my lower back, reaching out to rub a patch of skin hidden underneath my top. I felt goosebumps start to pop up and a tingly warmth spread throughout my body. I told him once that it felt like every atom in my body shook with excitement when he touched me. He laughed, and tenderly grazed his thumb along my cheekbone to see the blush spread across my face.

I sat perched in his lap, craving as much closeness as I could get in a public space. He thanked me again, as he'd being doing all night. For being there, for supporting him, for loving him, as if it wasn't the easiest thing to do.

We floated around the room: chatting, dancing, drinking. His hands were always attached to me. On my back, my waist, my thigh, teasing up my chest or trailing down my spine. We were magnetized, unable to separate, and I could feel pull of tension when he slipped away to the restroom, like my body was begging him to come back.

We were out for hours, and by the time we decided to head back to the hotel room we had for the night, my feet were achy from the walking and dancing, which was a stark reminder that I had just flown in from a full weekend of shows before this. He had to hold me up as we went back to the car, one hand clenching my waist and the other holding one of my own. I thanked him under my breath the entire way there.

"You don't have to thank me sweetie. I like to take care of my girl."

I'd never liked a possessive phrase more than when it came out of his mouth. "I love you."

He squeezed my waist once, and the hand he was holding three times. "God, I love you so much."

He helped me into the car, where I slumped over in the seat until my head hit the window with a loud thwack.

"You're going to hurt yourself. C'mere." He pulled me into his chest, making sure I was buckled safely in the seat belt before strapping over his own. I could hear him say something to my security who was driving us back. I leaned into him as the car began to move, a wave of nausea coming over me. I took in deep breaths. "We are almost there, baby. Just a few more minutes."

By the time we got to the hotel, I was half asleep against his chest. I felt him unbuckle me and himself before I was suddenly laid down across the backseats. I whined, but then heard the car door beside me open. Somehow, I didn't notice that he had left from my side and made it to my car door until he was lifting me up, out the car, and into his arms. Security escorted us up to the room, even though the halls were empty. He bid them goodbye, with me giving a light grunt as a parting of ways, before we entered our room.

The room was quiet, a contrast from the busy stadium and clubs we had been in all night. If I hadn't spent the entire night draped in his jacket, heated from his touch, amplified by the crowd and dancing, the cool air from the AC would have caused a painful chill up my spine. But tonight, it felt welcoming and refreshing. It's well after five in the morning, and the sun had not yet begun its journey across the sky. It's easy to pretend that time has slowed down for us, that we don't only have some short hours before we take separate planes, to separate places.

I'm still floaty from the beers, wine, and cocktails, but I'd sobered up a bit on the car ride, and I was aware of the fact that my clothes were sticking to my skin, my makeup felt heavy on my face, and my hair was causing my temples to throb. My arms felt like weights at my side, my feet dragging across the floor because I felt too weak to lift them and walk properly.