the manuscript (tayvis)

he was my bestfriend

Taylor had just dropped Emma off at preschool and swung by Starbucks for a coffee. She thought Joe might want one too, as they used to always drink coffee together when they first started dating—one latte and a black coffee.

As she opened the door to their home, she found Joe sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. "Who reads a physical newspaper these days?" the thought crossed her mind, but she didn't dare say it out loud. She walked over to him, kissed his cheek, and he smiled faintly.

"Good morning, love. I brought you a coffee." She smiled sweetly, offering the cup.

"Ah, babe, thanks, but I don't drink from those aesthetic cafes anymore. You know, people just go there for the hype, not because they care about the quality. I'm above that now. You shouldn't drink so much either," he said, glancing at her with a critical look that made her feel small. Sometimes she felt like a child around him. "Actually, you drink too much coffee and then complain about stomach pain."

"Yeah, you're right, sorry." A sad smile tugged at Taylor's lips, but Joe didn't notice. He reached out, touching her nose lightly.

"You're forgiven, love."

Taylor's phone rang, pulling her attention away. She picked it up without checking who it was—anything to escape Joe's scrutinizing gaze.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tay, it's Travis." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hey, Trav. How are you?" The nickname caught Joe's attention, making him set aside the paper.

"I'm good. Missing you and Emma. How are you both?"

"We're good, missing you too," she said, smiling genuinely for the first time in a while.

"Glad to hear that. Just wanted to check in, you know."

"Thanks for calling, Trav. Do you want me to call you back when Emma's home from school?"

"That'd be great."

"Alright, I'll take care of it." Taylor noticed Joe's growing impatience and felt the need to cut the call short. "Trav, I've got to go. We'll talk later, okay?"

"Alrighty, Tay. Talk soon."

As she put the phone down, Joe turned to her with a cold expression, leaving her confused.

"What's wrong, Joe?"

"He just calls you out of the blue like that? What the hell, Taylor? Are you cheating on me with your ex? I knew it. I always suspected that he's still into you. And you—acting like a slut who can't keep her legs closed—"

Before Joe could finish, his head snapped to the side as Taylor slapped him across the face.

"Joseph, I'll say this once: we're over. We've been over for a long time. I just didn't want to see it. You've never liked my life, my music, my books, my habits. You never saw a future with me. You hate that I wrote two albums about you. Sometimes I think you just tolerate me. And I accepted it because I love you, but never again—are you listening? Never again say something like that to me. You disgust me."

Though she wanted to break down and cry, Taylor stood tall. "You were my best friend, and look at what we've become. Get out of my house. When I come back, I don't want to see any trace of you here." Grabbing her bag, she walked out the door.

Joe stood frozen in the middle of the room. He never expected this, even though he had done nothing to prevent it.

Inside her car, Taylor finally broke down, feeling empty and lost. She drove to the hotel where Travis was staying in New York—she needed him now more than ever.

Travis had given her a key to his room in case of emergencies, so she went straight up, her eyes still swollen from crying.

When she reached the door, she hesitated to just walk in and knocked softly on the dark wood.

"Tay? What happened?" The tall man opened the door, concern filling his face as he immediately pulled her into his arms. She let herself cry, sinking into his embrace.

He led her inside, still holding her tightly, and closed the door behind them.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Everything's going to be alright," he whispered gently, stroking her back.

In that moment, being with Travis was the closest Taylor had felt to home in months.