Timeless: Tayvis Oneshots

can i ask you a question?

credit for the idea, my wattpad wife @thetorturedpoet_13  <3

Taylor's POV

As soon as I parked outside Arrowhead stadium, I gathered up my stuff and made sure I had everything. Recorder, notebook, pen, and my pass to get into the interview. I couldn't count how many times I'd forgotten my pass and made it so much harder for myself.

I'd been a sports reporter for just under a year now, and I guess I was doing okay. It wasn't my goal job, and I was just doing it to work my way up to bigger stories. Sports had been all that I had managed to get at the time, so I'd taken it just to have something I was vaguely interested in. And the job was fine. I got free accommodation if they sent me out of town, got to talk to a lot of famous people, and it was pretty flexible. Not bad at all.

Slinging my pass around my neck, I tugged the hem of my knee length dress down and stepped out of my car. I tucked my purse over my shoulders, glancing down automatically to make sure my docs were laced up as I shut the door and clicked the key to lock it. My car beeped, and I gave an automatic tug on the handle to check before moving off.

I showed my pass and was let into the side door of the stadium, making my way down to the conference room. I walked quickly, since even though I tried my very best, I was a few minutes later than I should have been. There was always something making me late, and I swore it wasn't my fault. I was just chronically late to everything despite my best efforts. Luckily, not enough to get fired. I still got the job done.

Cracking the door open, I slipped inside, trying not to draw any attention to myself. Luckily the interviews hadn't started yet, and the players were just chatting casually to each other as the reporters took their seats. I looked around for an empty chair, unable to find one close, and then I saw one right up the front on the left. Ducking my head, I walked down to the front and starting going across to the chair. There were too many people up the back to try and squeeze through them, and I tried to keep my head down and walk quickly. For the job I had, I hated drawing attention to myself.

"Wow." A soft voice picked up by a microphone murmured. "God, she's so beautiful."

A few chuckles spread through the reporters and I glanced up, freezing in place when I saw everyone staring at me. Then I looked over, my eyes landing on one of the football players who was already gazing my way. He blinked when I met his gaze, his green eyes furrowing in confusion before he looked down at the microphone and then realized something. His cheeks went red and he sat back, embarrassed. Obviously the one who had spoken.

Did he mean me? Surely not. My hair was too frizzy, I hadn't had time to put on any makeup, I was too tall, I wasn't skinny, and I went as red as a tomato given the slightest prod. Blushing hard, I scrambled over to the empty seat and shrunk into it, wishing people would stop looking at me. After a moment they did, and I relaxed.

I couldn't stop gazing at him, the man who might have called me beautiful. He obviously hadn't realized the microphone was so sensitive and had thought no one would hear him. But surely he hadn't actually said that about me. I was most definitely not beautiful.

The interview started and I clicked the button to start recording, wanting to get a feel for the few players being interviewed before I asked any questions of my own. I learned that the man I couldn't take my eyes off was Travis Kelce, the most famous tight end in the NFL. I'd heard of him before and knew a little bit about him, but not much. 

He'd captured my interest, and even though I should have been paying attention to everything, I was trapped by the sight of him. I wasn't sure what it was. He had such a kind face, jaw lined with stubble, his brown hair short. It suited him. He seemed so passionate when he talked, smiling and joking with his teammates. I'd never seen anyone that had spiked my curiosity the way he did.