A request.
"Did you like them?"
"Are you kidding me, Tay? I loved them. Almost lost my shit there for a second."
Her breath tickles my ear. She's pressed against my back, both arms around my waist, her legs wound up in mine. Her hair floats around me in a blonde cloud and I inhale the scent of her shampoo. As much as I love holding her, wrapping her up, there's something really fucking special about her taking me in her arms. These little moments of tenderness get to me; her spooning me as we lie together in bed, the way she notices when I'm in pain or exhausted and she brushes her hand over my hair, kisses my temple. A huge part of that is just who she is. She cares about everyone, even when they don't necessarily deserve it. She's as kind as she is beautiful, something that attracted me to her right away.
And I also like to think it's also the way we are with each other. Considerate of the other person's feelings, just the closeness we have. Just shy of a year, she's become one of my best friends in the world. Talking to her, no matter where we are in the world is always the best part of my day. Listening to her laugh or telling a story, if I want to ask her opinion on something, the second I see her smile, hear her voice, everything seems right with the world. It's a difficult feeling to try to explain. I've definitely attempted it, more than once--to other people, to her...I don't get very far, other than reiterating how much I love her, so fucking much.
I'd like to think she knows, though.
FaceTime isn't much of a substitute for seeing her in person. It doesn't hold a candle to taking her in my arms, to kissing her. The way her dimples show when she giggles at one of my jokes, how her hair feels softest at the back, this perfect little place where I'm obsessed with running my thumb over. Her eyes. Having those eyes meeting mine not through a screen...it's everything and it makes me cherish each moment together times ten.
"Me too. So happy, I thought I was going to implode. Just burst into flames up there."
Watching Taylor do what she loves, what she was born to do, really, always kills me. Even from the first time I saw her, way back in KC, her confidence on stage has grown so much and I'm so fucking proud of her. I love getting to take friends to her shows, love dancing and singing along. It's the most electric experience to know she's got 70, 000 people there, all there to see her and she's mine. The most amazing person on the planet. That, she's most definitely heard. I tell her every chance I get.
"You sounded incredible, baby. The new set is fire. And," I shift so I can look at her in the darkness, "you looked so beautiful. God."
Even though the only light in the room is slipping through the drawn curtains, I can still tell she's blushing. It's so adorable and I let her know, kissing the tip of her nose.
She's usually completely destroyed from the consecutive shows, even though she's having trouble sleeping. Her feet hurt, her muscles hurt and no one gets that better than me. Tomorrow we'll head over to Italy, for a mini trip I'd booked for her months ago and she'll get to relax, her body will get to recuperate the way it deserves to.
Taylor smiles and I lean in to kiss the curve of her mouth. "Come look at the moon with me."
It's such a Taylor thing to say. Like me, she's a person who appreciates the simple beauty in life, the kind of things most tend to overlook, except she appreciates it in a way that's like the most perfect poetry you've ever heard. I know she's writing a song in her head that'll go on the pages of her journal later and maybe she'll play a little for me once it's fully formed.
As late as it is, I get out of bed, hurrying to the other side to help her up. After nearly four hours, I know for a fact her feet can barely hold her, but that's okay. She understands I've got her.
