The Russian Ballerini

4

The evening seemed to stretch on forever as the snow gently piled up outside the window of the cozy restaurant. The warmth inside created a contrast that Taylor hadn't felt in a long time—safe, inviting, and almost comforting in its stillness. Travis sat across from her, his eyes gentle but insistent, as if he could see past the barriers she had spent years constructing around herself.

Taylor hadn't intended to get this deep tonight. But there was something about the way Travis listened, the way he didn't rush her, didn't judge her, that made her want to open up. She didn't think she'd be able to get through the night without some honesty, and the more she sat there with him, the more she realized that maybe it was time to stop running from her past.

"So," Travis began, breaking the silence between them as he took a sip of his drink, "this whole sliding-into-DMs thing... was it really your idea?"

Taylor let out a small laugh and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes dropped for a moment as she traced the rim of her glass with her finger. She could feel his gaze on her, patient, waiting for her answer.

She sighed, letting her shoulders relax as she met his eyes. "Actually... it wasn't my idea," she admitted, her voice soft but playful. "It was Mackenzie, my best friend. She's the one who made me do it."

Travis raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. "Mackenzie, huh? So, she was the mastermind behind this?"

"Yep." Taylor laughed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "She was the one who stalked you on the internet. She was there when I came across that podcast video of you talking about how mesmerized you were by me when you first saw me."

The corner of Travis's mouth twitched into a grin. "I said that?"

"You said something like that," Taylor replied, her voice slightly teasing. "And Mackenzie... she made sure I saw it. Then she told me to slide into your DMs. She wouldn't let me rest until I did."

"That's funny." Travis chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm glad she convinced you."

"Well," Taylor said, a little quieter now, "she's pretty convincing."

There was a pause as Taylor turned her attention back to the window. The snow had picked up now, creating a soft blur of white outside. Travis noticed her shift in mood, the way her smile faded into something else—something more contemplative. He wasn't going to press, but something in her demeanor made him wonder what was really on her mind.

"So," Travis continued, leaning in slightly, "how did you end up at that Nutcracker performance with me, then? I mean, I'm sure you didn't wake up thinking, 'I'll go see the Nutcracker with some random football player.'"

Taylor gave a small, rueful smile, but her gaze remained fixed on the falling snow. "Well, my nieces... they're obsessed with ballet. They begged me to go. I'd been avoiding it for a while, but they insisted. It wasn't even my idea. But when they're that excited, you don't want to say no."

He laughed, clearly amused. "I can't believe I ended up going because of my nieces. I'm not exactly the type for ballet."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Taylor teased, her smile growing slightly. "You looked... a little out of place."

Travis chuckled, then noticed the sudden shift in Taylor's expression. She looked away from the window and straight down at the table. Her fingers curled around her glass, and there was a tension in her posture that Travis immediately recognized.

"Hey..." He reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, but if something's bothering you, I'm here."

For a long moment, Taylor didn't respond. She simply stared down at her hands, avoiding his gaze. Finally, her voice broke the silence, soft and fragile. "I should probably tell you more about my past, Travis. I mean, you deserve to know who I really am."