Daylight

Travis #1

I can't believe I'm actually sitting here across from Taylor. I mean, yeah, I came to see her perform tonight, but I didn't expect her to ask me out for dinner right after. When she asked, I almost thought she was joking. But here we are, in some low-lit restaurant, and Taylor Swift—the Taylor Swift—is fidgeting in her seat across from me like she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"So, uh...did you like the show?" she asks, fingers tapping restlessly against her water glass.

"Like it?" I grin. "You fucking killed it, Taylor. The crowd was insane! I've never heard people scream that loud. You've got them wrapped around your finger."

She laughs a little, but there's that nervous energy in her eyes, like she's overthinking everything. "Yeah, they were pretty loud, huh? I mean, not that I didn't expect that, but...you know. Loud." She cringes a little at her own words and quickly sips her water.

I smirk, trying to put her at ease. "Same Taylor, still rambling. Some things never change, huh?"

She flushes slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, shut up. I'm not rambling...Okay maybe a little. Sorry, I guess I just haven't done this in a while."

"Done what? Had dinner with an old friend?"

"Pretty much, yeah," she laughs nervously, her eyes darting around the room for a second before she looks back at me. "It's just a little weird, you know? Like, I haven't seen you since...what, junior year?"

"Yeah, when you left school to do this music thing full-time," I say, glancing at her, trying to figure out if she's the same girl I knew back then or if she's someone else now. It's hard to tell.

She nods, chewing on her lip. "That was so long ago. I still can't believe I actually did it, you know?"

"Well, it obviously paid off. You're living the dream, Swift."

She shrugs, her smile a little shy. "Yeah, I guess. But enough about me. What about you? Still playing ball, huh?"

"Yeah, still kicking ass," I say, chuckling. "Not quite as glamorous as selling out arenas, but hey, I get my fair share of fans."

She grins, relaxing a bit. "Oh, I bet. I remember how you used to handle it back in school, like you owned the place."

I laugh. "Hey, what can I say? Confidence is key. And look at you now, doing the same thing but on a way bigger scale. You were always the one who seemed to know exactly what you wanted."

"Right..." she murmurs, looking down at her hands again. "Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it, you know? Like, was it the right decision?"

"Come on, Taylor. You've got millions of people screaming your lyrics back at you every night. I think you made the right call."

She lets out a small laugh. "Guess you're right. It just...feels a little surreal sometimes. Like, how the hell did I end up here?"

"Same way you always did—sheer stubbornness and refusing to take no for an answer," I say, grinning.

Her laugh is genuine this time, and it makes my heart stop for a second. It's the same laugh I remember from all those years ago—like a piece of her that's still just Taylor.

I feel a smile tugging at my lips. "I'm serious! You're exactly the same. Even the way you laugh."

She smirks. "And you're exactly the same, too. Still saying things like 'I just seen you last week' or 'he don't know.'"

"Hey, come on now!" I say, raising my hands in mock defense. "Sorry I'm not fluent in Aristotle like you are. Not all of us grew up planning our grammar for interviews."

She bursts out laughing, loud and unfiltered, and it feels like old times again. "Oh my God, I missed this," she says, finally calming down. "You really haven't changed at all."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is mac-and-cheese still your go-to meal?"

"Hey, don't judge me! Mac and cheese is the ultimate comfort food," she says, and for the first time tonight, she looks completely at ease.

"Fine then. If you're doing mac and cheese, I'm getting a burger, extra cheese, just like old times."

She smiles. "Deal. To nostalgia, then?"

"To nostalgia."

We order, and while we wait, the conversation flows a bit more easily. We laugh about old memories—her singing in the hallways at school, me getting detention every other week for some dub prank. It's like we're just Taylor and Travis again, not some pop star and football player.

After dinner, we settle the bill, and as we're standing up, she pulls out her phone. "Hey, I should give you my number. You know, in case you wanna hang out again...or you need someone to critique your grammar."

I laugh. "Oh yeah, thanks. I'll be sure to send my texts for editing."

She laughs, punching my shoulder lightly. "Hey, I just can't help it if your English is so bad."

I grab her phone and type my number in. "There you go. Now you're officially fluent in 'Travis-ese.'"

She laughs again, and it feels good to see her smile. For a moment, we just looked at each other, and I realize she hasn't changed nearly as much as I thought she had. Beneath all the fame, she really was the same Taylor I knew.