Stolen Memories [Tayvis Fanfiction]

CELEBRATORY

Three Weeks Later
October 5th; 2024
Taylor Swift's Point of View
My heart hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs as start to nervously bite at my lip. It's been a little over a month since Travis and I got together, and let me tell you, it's been a whirlwind. The happiest whirlwind of my life, I hate to admit it. I don't want to be defined by him, by how happy he makes me, but damn it all, I can't deny this grin plastered across my face.

Today's his big day - 35 candles on the cake. He's having a party all the way in Kansas City, and I promised I'd be there. No way I'd miss it, not after weeks of searching for the perfect gift. This one? It's pure magic, exactly what he's been wanting. Now, all I have to do is get myself there in one piece and watch his jaw drop when he sees it.

Joy is in New York and I told her I'd be back tomorrow. She whined about wanting to come, but I had to break the news: this was a grown-ups-only kind of party. Stepping out of the backseat of the car, I smooth down my outfit and take a deep breath. Loud music thumps from inside, a bassline that vibrates through my chest. Colored lights flicker through the windows, casting the scene in a psychedelic glow. It's been years since I's been to a party like this, one filled with the promise of exhilaration, tequila shots, and maybe even ending up trending on Twitter tomorrow. A nervous flutter dances in my stomach, but it's quickly overshadowed by a surge of excitement. Tonight is about Travis, and I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees what I got him. Pushing open the door, I step into the pulsating heart of the party, ready to celebrate.

The crowd hits me like a wave – a heaving mass of bodies swaying in time. The music explodes in my ears, a chaotic mix of electronic beats and hip-hop that scrambles my thoughts. I scan the room, my eyes fighting to adjust from the sudden darkness to the strobing assault of fairy lights and spinning disco balls.

A coven of women, their outfits resembling a post-apocalyptic Halloween, cackles with laughter near the bar. A group of guys in ironic t-shirts attempts some synchronized dance move that ends in a tangled mess of limbs. But my eyes, they only search for Travis.

Shoving through the crowd, I weave a path between bobbing heads and precariously balanced drinks. The air hangs heavy with the scent of cologne, body heat, and the lingering sweetness of spilled cocktails. Just as doubt creeps in, making me question the address, a familiar voice cuts through the din.

"Hey! You made it!"

There he is, Travis, leaning against his home bar. He looks incredible, a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach. He's deep in conversation with a guy sporting a loud Hawaiian shirt, but the moment his gaze lands on me, a wide grin splits his face.

"Excuse me for a second, man," he says to Hawaiian Shirt, who offers me a friendly wave. "There you are! I was starting to think you chickened out."

"Never," I reply, a playful smile tugging at my lips. I can't help but steal a glance down at the small, velvet box clutched tightly in my hand.

Travis throws his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "Glad you made it. This party's been missing something...or should I say someone?" He leans down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let me guess, you brought the tequila?"

I laugh, the sound swallowed by the pulsating music. "Even better," I reply, raising the velvet box a couple of inches. "Happy birthday, Travis."

His eyes widen with curiosity. "Whoa, there's no need for all that," he says, taking the box tentatively. His fingers brush against mine as he does, sending a jolt through me.

"Consider it an investment," I wink. "In many future hangovers, hopefully shared ones."

Travis chuckles, his gaze fixed on the box. He takes a moment, savoring the anticipation, before carefully lifting the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, rests a worn leather-bound journal. Its brass clasp gleams in the flashing lights.